


Magic Like Ours

by sweettartsmeetdots



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Past Abuse, SO MUCH FLUFF, Unplanned Pregnancy, just a conversation about Dursley's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettartsmeetdots/pseuds/sweettartsmeetdots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco are hit with an old pure-blood spell meant to produce an heir. Naturally, nothing goes as planned for Harry Potter, and he decides that he wants to find out who did this. Not to get them into trouble, but to thank them. Because everything happens for a reason, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MPREG literally do not read if you don't like that, that is all this is. Anyways, enjoy!

Hm, my dream is lovely. I can’t remember exact details, but it’s all warm and fuzzy, I want to go back to it. The covers are so soft and warm, why is it so cold in the room? 

Burrowing deeper into the covers, my head hits something not quite as soft as the blankets I was expecting, and I groggily move away from it, yelping when I almost fall off of the bed. Sitting up more awake than before I rub my eyes, sighing heavily. My muscles are sore, and I hear my back crack loudly as I stretch. 

Letting my hands fall back down to the covers, I sigh at the familiar white surroundings. Hospital wing again, maybe another stinging hex? Mornings like this have become pretty common, most of the returning students don’t take too kindly to my light sentence after the war. I look down towards my left, where the bedside table should be and I nearly fall out of bed again. Someone is in the bed with me, snoring softly and I try to figure out who it is since their back is to me. Why the hell would anyone be in my bed? Surely that’s unsterile in the hospital sing, what if they’re sick?

Hm, atrociously messy black hair and glasses on the table? Of-fucking-course it had to be Potter, who insists on being my friend despite my clear social cues otherwise. I don’t know what his motive is, but the git has been trying to get closer to me all year, starting with testifying for me in court and then heading up the inter house unity movement by suggesting an eighth year dorm and common room, regardless of sorting. 

Okay, that last one was more for convenience since there aren’t established eighth year dorms and not many came back, but he didn’t have to choose the bed next to mine when nobody else would. I am fine being on my own, plus I have some friends. Like Blaise and Theo, even though they have been spending increasingly more time with their new friends of other houses. 

I have a single goal this year, and that is to come out top of the class despite Granger’s brilliance. I am doing a damn good job of it too, and we’ve been struggling for the top spot all year, always neck and neck. I ended up taking up Muggle studies since I’d like to know everything about everything, and that is the only class I am easily beating her in. Though, to be fair she doesn’t find it nearly as interesting as I do having grown up with all of it. It’s actually kind of fascinating, how they have evolved without magic and used so many different tools to get different jobs done. 

Turning my head sharply as Madam Pomfrey comes bustling in, her maroon and white robes flaring as she prepares different medicines I open my mouth to question her. A sharp glare cuts me off, and I sigh taking the medicine she hands me, waiting to talk for her nod. Routine, I am not to speak until she has fed me my medicine since I won’t stop questioning her once I’ve begun.

“What happened?” I ask, my throat cracking. She frowns, handing me another potion for my throat as she answers. 

“Well, Potter here was trying to- how did you put it? Ah yes, ‘steal your friendship’, when some students thought it would be hilarious to hit you with a rare bit of magic. I’m afraid the circumstances are very complicated, we’ve had to call in a healer from St. Mungo's who specializes in this sort of thing. She’ll be here soon, I have to wake Potter and run some diagnostic spells so that I have some information when she gets here.” she bustles around, making the bed more presentable as she goes and tossing me some fresh pyjamas. I stand to move towards the lavatory to change, and I stop dead about three feet from the bed when a crippling pain rushes through me, making me crumple on the spot and fight or consciousness, the pain oddly familiar. 

I vaguely recognise a muffled groan of pain, whether mine or not I am unsure, and I feel Madam Pomfrey haul me back towards the bed, the pain subsiding marginally. Opening my eyes, I find my arm held against Potter’s stomach, and I turn confused to Pomfrey. This can’t be what I think it is, I’ve only heard of a spell like this being cast by a professional in pure blood families ages ago. It’s supposed to be really hard to do, and of course a student thought to cast it at me and Potter. He will lose his shit once he finds out.

“Who cast a fucking cruciatus?” Potter groans, and I raise my eyebrows in confusion. So that's what the pain reminded me of. I laugh at Pomfrey’s expression towards his crass language, preparing a goblet of potions for him as well.

“I will have to notify the healer immediately, for the time being do not leave his side Draco. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to change.” she says, sweeping back out of the curtained space. Potter reaches out blindly for his glasses, and I watch him struggle for a bit longer before handing them to him, amused. He shoves them unceremoniously onto his face, running a hand through his hair and mussing it even more as he sits up. He looks down quizzically at my arm on his stomach.

“Pomfrey put it there and the pain stopped.” I shrug, and he nods. 

“What happened?” he asks, yawning. I relay the small bit of information I’ve gathered choosing to omit my own suspicions, and he nods again. He looks around the infirmary, clearly just as familiar with it’s walls as I am. He seems decidedly okay with being hexed, and I realize that he probably doesn’t have a sense of normal, being hunted for the first seventeen years of his life and then badgered ever since. I’ve complained about him so much I should have realized, nothing ever goes as planned in his life and consequently those around him.

“Maybe if you gave up on your ulterior plan, you could be eating treacle tart right now amongst your friends.” I say, and he turns to me quizzically. I refuse to meet his eyes, which are far too green for this early in the morning. Tracing a pattern weaved into the thin hospital blanket I don’t meet his eyes and he stays silent for a moment before rudely poking my cheek. 

“I am trying to be your friend, you git. Maybe if you’d be easier to be nice to we wouldn’t have gotten hexed.” 

“That can’t be the sole reason, Potter. I appreciate your testimony, I apologized and thanked you. Now, let’s give that whole saving the kicked puppy agenda of yours a rest. I just want to complete my studies.” I say, meeting his eyes. He grows more pouty with each word, and I get the odd urge to poke him back until he’s smiling. My words are genuine though, I am not a charity case and I’ll be damned if I have to owe anymore to the boy who lived. 

“You’re denser than I thought.” he says, grinning cheekily, and I huff. I don’t like this, he should be sending hexes and glares my way just like everyone else. Nobody cares that I am genuinely sorry, and I just want to get through the rest of this year so that I can move far from England, hopefully as a healer. 

“Draco Malfoy, if I solemnly swear that I have no Slytherin agenda against you and the purest of intentions, will you stop being difficult and be my friend?” he asks, in a horribly fake serious tone, his stupid smile betraying the scene. I search his face, trying to figure out his endgame. Though, to be fair he is too bloody gryffindor and noble to figure out a plan with any real danger or subtlety to it. Fine, if the idiot wants to be my friend so badly then he’ll just get my usual friend treatment, a constant flow of demands for attention accompanied with complaints and insults. Should work out perfectly. 

“Fine, you won’t be treated nicely though. You’ll be treated just like my normal friends.” I say, folding my arms. He grins again, nodding. As he is about to respond, the St. Mungo’s healer bustles in, carrying a large leather medicine bag and smiling at us.

“Good morning, boys! Poppy here has informed me of our little mishap, but luckily for you this could be a very good thing! Has she told you yet what she suspects to be the diagnosis?” the cheerful witch asks, and we both shake our heads, bemused at her jovial attitude. This should be a show, Potter won’t want to be my friend once he realises what hanging around me has gotten him into. 

“Well, this will probably be a bit of a shock then. Mr. Potter, you were the sole target of the spell, though I suspect that Mr. Malfoy was the one they meant to hit. He was the one standing closest to you, however, which involves him as well. This is an ancient spell, usually used amongst pure blood families looking to produce an heir. I’ll run a few of my own tests to be sure, but I believe that you boys are pregnant.” she says, as though the news is the best thing in the world. I feel my stomach drop, I had suspected but hearing it confirmed made it all the more real. This doesn’t just affect me or Potter, there is now a whole other life in the equation which I know I have to take care of, if only because no child deserves the childhood I got.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys learn a bit more and tell the trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

There is no way in hell Potter will stay my friend for this, which I suppose is what I want. I don’t want to be physically bonded to him and the baby for the next three months though, this will let Granger pull ahead for sure. I want a child, sure, but I’d figured that would be when I wasn’t being targeted as an ex death eater by the whole school and I had an actual house to raise them in. Maybe Potter will let me take the baby, I know he probably has dangerous Auror plans that wouldn’t suit a child’s needs. 

 

“Well then, I suppose I’m the one carrying it?” he asks, his voice weak but h is expression set firm. Why isn’t he breaking down right now? of all the bizarre things, this has to be a shock to him. The healer nods, seemingly thrilled at this turn of events. I wonder if I ever do make it far enough to become a healer, what field I’ll specialize in. I’ve mostly just focused on getting into the training programme first. 

 

“So, we should go over the basics then. This spell clearly is not gender specific, I imagine you’re still in pain from the development of r organs necessary to carry this thing through. It isn’t the first case though, and I’m quite experienced with this sort of thing.” she continues, and Potter nods when she mentions the pain. Hm, he doesn’t show it, probably some idiotic gryffindor strength thing. 

 

“This should be a regular wizarding pregnancy that is spell bound, the magic changes things quite a bit you see. Especially since you are both powerful wizards, this will be a particularly intense pregnancy. Are either of you familiar with the timeline of a Wizarding pregnancy invoked by a spell?” I nod but Potter shakes his head, and so she settles in to explain, conjuring a large set of moving posters. 

 

“Well, it will last about four months, and you will be needing to check in much more often than with a muggle pregnancy. In the first month you will be experiencing erratic magic, which is the baby’s way of letting you know they are healthy. The baby will also recognize Draco’s magical signature, which is why you will be experiencing discomfort and even pain as the pregnancy progresses. We are able to tell the sex of the baby in about two months, and you’ll be getting cravings and morning sickness quite a bit. Nausea, swollen feet, trouble sleeping are all common but these will lessen considerably the closer you are to Draco. Poppy tells me you felt a bit of pain this morning when apart?” she prompts, and Potter takes a moment to take it all in so I answer. 

 

“Yes, it felt like the cruciatus curse once I’d been about three feet away. Still throbs a bit.” I say, and her smile loses a bit of it’s enthusiasm. I know that these types of spells are tricky, they really should be cast by someone who knows what they are doing, let alone with the consent of the targets.

 

“Well, like I said this will be intense because of your magic. I understand that you two butt heads quite a  it as well, which the baby no doubt can sense though it only understands this as passion, not necessarily good or bad. This will make things  a bit complicated, but we’ll talk about those effects in a bit. Harry, you should begin to show in two weeks or so, and obviously it will be impossible to hide this forever but we should be able to keep the peace for quite a while with special robes. I need you eating healthy, you will be taking these prenatal vitamins once a day with breakfast.” she continues, pulling out a bottle of pills and handing them to Harry. 

 

“How will the birthing happen?” he asks, and I almost choke. That was blunt, this boy has no grace. 

 

“Well, if the papers are anything to go by I understand that you have found yourself more of a fan of wizards than witches, Mr. Potter?” she teases, and he blushes. Honestly, it was a shock for everyone when famous Harry Potter came out as gay at the beginning of the year, but it’s blown over so much that I’m surprised she remembered. 

 

“Er, yes.” he answers, and she changes the picture on the floating poster to a cartoon diagram of the inner workings of a male. She points to the image, describing the intiricalities in great detail. If I weren’t so used to the concept of male wizards having children, I have a pair of uncles with an adorable one year old of their own, I’m sure this would be much harder to wrap my mind around. As it is, I am waiting for it to really settle in, I have a feeling I’ll break down eventually when this thing seems more real.

 

“You share a dorm room, yes? Good, well I assume unless you sleep well under such pain as you felt before you’ll be willing to make a few changes, once the baby arrives the Headmistress has agreed to move you two and the baby into private quarters, though you’ll only have about a month left of school at that point. Since this is such a strong case already, we will move you two into private rooms that are smaller meant for one professor, you can move in this afternoon. I know eight years can’t play quidditch, but I want you no where near a broom until the baby is here, understand?These spells are all very specific to the pair, and so we will be checking in quite frequently. Trust me when I say that I’ll have to ask you a great deal more than you are comfortable sharing, but the priority is not so much your comfort as the baby’s safety.” she says, and I nod seriously. My uncles had joked about how personal the sessions with their mediwitch were, saying that she knew so much about their sex lives she may as well have been in the room.

 

I am not looking forward to this. Though, since me and Potter aren’t doing any of that, it shouldn’t be a problem. We can co-parent, like friends. 

 

“You will depend on one another a great deal, it will be interesting to see how this goes. Some couples, excuse me, pairs feel things like extreme possessiveness as an instinct to protect their baby, some experience mood swings and strong anger, while others feel no change at all.” she says, and I watch as she begins to pack her things up. The poster rolls itself up, tucking neatly into her bag before it zips shut.

 

“We will schedule a meeting for three days from now, since there will be a lot of adjusting the next few days. I will see you here, at eight sharp. The Headmistress has asked me to sent you two up to her office when we finish, so I will see you two in a bit.” she smiles, and we both say our farewells as she leaves the Hospital. Pomfrey stands from where she was sitting next to the bed, holding out two sets of fresh robes. I look to her uncertain, hadn’t this gone badly last time?

 

“You will have to stay close, just face opposite sides, I’ll draw the curtains behind me.” she says, walking out briskly. I stand, the discomfort rising and my head buzzing until the robes are on and I stand next to Potter again. This is going to be a damn mess, how will I study like this?

 

“Well, let’s go see Mcgonagall then.” I say, and he nods following my lead. The walk is awkwardly slow in the beginning, as we try to walk at the same pace very close together. His legs are shorter and I have to keep slowing down to accommodate his pace. Heaving a sigh, I grab his hand in mine, feeling the discomfort fade completely and making the rest of the walk much smoother. 

 

“Mandrake Root.” Potter says when we reach the gargoyle statue, and it springs aside to expose the spinning staircase. If Potter grips my hand tighter on the way up, I don’t comment. 

 

Knocking twice against the heavy wooden door, I hear a muffled ‘come in’, and the door swings open magically. Mcgonagall sits at the desk, the office starkly different from the single time I’d seen it when Dumbledore was Headmaster. The man himself sits in a portrait behind her desk, right next to Severus. Both smile as we walk in, though Severus just smirks nastily which I have grown to understand is the closest he’ll ever get.

 

We take a seat in the high backed armchairs in front of her desk, and she glances at our clasped hands but chooses not to comment. Offering us a biscuit and tea, I take the tea while Potter takes both.

 

“Not a fan of lemon drops, Professor?” Potter asks, cheekily and she sends him a brisk smile. I don’t know how she can perfectly seem fond and yet serious at the same time, seem stern but playful all at once.

 

“Now, boys. I assure you that we are doing everything in our power to find out who cast the spell, but Priori Incantatem has revealed nothing. I am afraid there was such a crowd rushing to get dinner that nobody has come to me with a story matching another, but we will keep looking. For the time being, this is not a spell one can reverse so I am afraid you will have to once again play the game another sets for you. I am sorry boys, nothing seems to work out in your favors. Hopefully the fancy quarters will make it a little easier, I do expect both of your grades to remain high and for you to continue on the career paths you have intended.” she speaks, and I sip my tea silently, letting Potter nod at all the right times and shake off her apology. 

 

“Your rooms are on the same floor as the library, the painting of the African Boomslang and Empress are the password holders. Your password can be set by you two, whatever you say to them first will be the decided password unless I see fit that you need to change it for privacy. Mealtimes wouldn’t be such a problem generally, but Poppy has informed me that it is not comfortable to be more than a few feet away so I will leave it up to you two how to choose your seating. Classes will stay the same, though you will be excused from some potions and defense classes once you’re further along. You’ll just have to sit next to each other, but the teachers are aware of this. I want no fighting or stress, this child will pay you for it if you upset them and I don’t need unhealthy students. Understood?” 

 

“Yes, Headmistress.” I say, and Harry nods as well. She dismisses us and we stand, walking down the staircase and back out into the hall. 

 

“Do you just want to go to the rooms? It’s lunch time but we can always just go to the kitchens instead of the Great Hall.” he says, and I turn towards him quizzically. 

 

“Um, you’re the pregnant one here. Shouldn’t you be calling the shots?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes. Rude.

 

“Well, I’m used to outrageous rumors and headlines so I’ll tell my friends what’s going on whenever you’re ready. I don’t really care but I know the Great Hall may not be comfortable for you.” he answers. What the bloody hell is happening? Harry Potter is being overly kind and it’s sickening. 

 

“I don’t care, Potter. Let’s just go tell the whole Weasley clan, like I said I’m not the pregnant one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but over this year I have also grown quite used to stares and angry rumors.” I say, turning to walk towards the Great Hall. He follows mostly because we are still holding hands, but also because his stomach growls loudly. We are silent the rest of the way down, and only when we are just outside the doors to the Great Hall do I stop. It’s the middle of lunch, everyone will already be seated so walking in under a crowd isn’t an option. 

 

“Well, I don’t feel like being uncomfortable so I’m still holding your hand. You can pretend to struggle if you’d like.” he says cheekily, shoving the door open. The clatter of dishes and loud talking quiets considerably as we walk in, and a few people closest to us have their jaws wide open. 

 

Harry moves decisively, going towards the Gryffindor table and luckily choosing to sit across from his friends where there are two seats rather than in the empty seat next to them. They look surprised as well, but I assume seven years of living with Harry Potter has dulled their sense of shock a bit. 

 

He drops my hand once we are seated since we’re practically pressed together knee to shoulder, and helps himself to the food. Following his lead after a minute, I grab some salad and grilled chicken. Granger and Weasley still haven’t spoken, but they look to Harry expectantly.

 

“Hello, Draco.” Hermione says, and I jump slightly. Why is she talking to me? Shouldn’t she hate me most of all after all of the horrid things my family did to her and all I said? But she is instead being kind, and I don’t know how to handle it. Clearly Weasley hasn’t forgotten, he sends me an angry glare across the table. 

 

“Hello Hermione.” I say slowly, shoving food into my mouth to avoid anymore conversation. She doesn’t seem to mind, turning back to Harry.

 

“I’m pregnant.” he blurts, and she raises her eyebrows. Ron chokes on his food, but he spoke quietly enough to keep it to us four. No easing into the topic then, I swear his filter is nonexistent.

 

“How?” Hermione asks, and I get the sense that she’s asking how as in what-did-you-do rather than how as in how can a man be pregnant. Harry explains as I eat, not really interested in the conversation. They get over it pretty quickly, accepting that their friend literally never gets a break or has a normal life. The topics vary from quidditch to school, and I end up finding out that Hermione wants to be a healer as well. We begin a heated conversation on both the Junior Healer programme and Muggle Studies, and by the time the lunch hour is over Ron and Harry had been watching us in slight amusement and shock.

 

“We were excused from today’s classes, so do you just want to settle into the new rooms?” I ask as we leave the hall, hands clasped once more. He nods, and we make our way up to the library, then down the hall to the painting. We’d decided on a password on the way up, ‘Aeroplane’. That’s a muggle invention. 

 

The rooms are fairly decent, an open living room area with a small counter space and cupboards. A fireplace stands n the opposite wall, couches and armchairs clustered around it. Through the door is the bedroom, with only one bed might I add which I will have to transfigure into two. There is another door through the bedroom leading into the bathroom, and a closet space. A large work desk is in the corner of the bedroom, and I decide I’ll probably spend most of my time there. 

 

Our things are already moved in, and I glance to Potter before diving into my bag, hoping to be the first one to decorate the new living space. He has the same idea, and we rush about sticking different things all over the walls and trying to cover more space with our own items until the room looks absolutely insane, green clashing with red and wizarding photos mixed with muggle ones. 

  
It should look ridiculous, but it all seems to fit as it makes us collapse laughing, not bothering to move any of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get closer and address a few issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter I'l skip a little bit of time, not too much though.

I wake up to a splitting headache and the sound of retching somewhere near me, and I groan, rolling out of the bed. Potter is hunched over the toilet, throwing up and he looks far worse than I feel because of the three feet separation it caused. I drop to the floor, sitting next to him and rubbing his back until he stops heaving, the direct contact easing my headache and his nausea. 

 

He thanks me quietly, blushing. I roll my eyes, only he would be embarrassed over something like morning sickness.It has started faily early, the past few days he’s been fine. The healer is coming in today, so we’ll let her know about this. 

 

“Don’t be embarrassed, she said this would happen. Now, are you feeling up to eating some toast and eggs? Those should be softer on your stomach, I know the vitamins will kill your stomach if they aren’t taken with food.” I say, and he looks at me oddly. I retrace my words, looking for something that could have offended him.

 

“What?” I ask finally, and he looks away, standing to begin brushing his teeth and avoid the question. Sighing, I brush my teeth as well, waiting for him to move into the other room and keeping within the safe two foot distance we’ve established as I dress.

 

“Have you seen my tie?” he asks, and I put a hand on my hip.

 

“Maybe if you’d put things in their place like I ask you wouldn’t need me to find your tie every morning.” I say, and he shoulder checks me. 

 

“I’m tired by the end of the day, it’s this baby.” he whines, and I roll my eyes again. I have no way of denying that he is tired, but he sure seems to bring it up when it best suits him, rather than when I warn him and Weasley not to walk on the sharp rocks in the lake. 

 

“Here it is, git.” I say, and he tosses back a name of his own before slinging his bag over his shoulder. I grab my book bag, and lead the way out of our quarters and towards the great hall. We seem to be up early, the halls are deserted and only a select few are eating already. Surprisingly enough, Harry begins to walk faster leading the way towards the Slytherin table, where we’ve only eaten a single meal so far when I complained enough. 

 

So far I’ve found out that the absolute monster pours his milk before his cereal, as well as before his tea. When I called him on it he merely pointed to my plate of respectable breakfast food, saying I eat like an elderly woman. 

 

Today, he opts for water and toast, and I make sure he pops a vitamin into his mouth in the middle of the meal. We finish just as people begin to trickle in, and Harry decides to leave before anyone we know shows up since they’ve been dancing around eggshells when it comes to ‘the topic’. Granger has been the only helpful one really, and she has been researching all she can about the spell and recommending books to me. Because Harry won’t read them I have to, and he doesn’t particularly enjoy that I know more about it and therefore can tell him what to and what not to do. 

 

We have a good forty five minutes before we have to make our way towards the Transfiguration room, and I let him take the lead walking in the direction of the front doors. It's February and the grounds are bitterly cold, but with a few heating charms we’re off towards the partially frozen Lake. I realize with a sense of nostalgia that I haven't seen the Giant Squid through the Slytherin windows since sixth year. I should have spent more time that year looking at things, had I know it would be the last time I would have memorized the common room and dorms, the quidditch locker rooms. 

 

Harry slows to a stop when the frosty lawn turns into the sandy pebbles in the shallows of the Lake, perching on a large flat rock leaving room for me to sit as well. I make sure our bags are safe from toppling over behind us, turning to watch ripples in the water under the frozen sheet on top. 

 

“What will we name them?’ Harry asks suddenly, and I startle having grown used to the silence. Name? Oh right, the child. It’s still hard to consider it as a real thing, a living person that will have a name and emotions. He’s already thinking about bloody names?

 

“Um, I figured you would want to name them.” I shrug, and he turns to me, blazing green eyes daring me to look away. Please, as sharp as his gaze is I’ve never been one to break first, and I have found that Harry is amongst the best of Slytherins with wit when he feels like it. 

 

“You are helping with this child, Malfoy.” he says, his voice like ice. I hold my hands up, trying to mend the situation. I can’t tell if he’s just mad because it’s me or if the pregnancy is somewhat responsible. 

 

“I will help as much as you let me, Potter. However, as much as I want to ignore it this is indirectly my fault. So forgive me if I am confused at your ease with getting knocked up by a death eater.” I say, and he scowls.

 

“Don’t say that, you aren’t.” he says, and I feel a fire rage inside of me. Yanking up my shirt sleeve, for the first time since the war I purposely show someone the ugly black mark standing out against my pale skin. He doesn’t flinch, and after a moment he pulls his fringe aside to expose his forehead.

 

“I have one too, you think I am a death eater because of it?” not giving me time to respond, he pulls his shirt collar down further to expose a white scar from his collar bone, reaching down towards his heart. He doesn’t get it, those scars aren’t the same. It never did strike me however, they were put there in the same hatred, by the same man.

 

“Or this. I have marks because of him too, idiot. You went through trial, you paid your dues. You didn’t ask for any of it anyways.” he finishes, chest heaving slightly as he tugs his clothes and hair back in place, looking over the lake and away from me. My hands shaking, I am startled at the wave of emotion rising in me. That isn’t fair, he doesn’t understand. I  _ did  _ want it. I didn’t know what it meant, and I was scared out of my mind, but one has to willingly receive such a mark. 

 

“I asked for it.” I say, my voice much smaller than I meant for it to be. He looks at me, and I maintain eye contact, forcing him to face this. If he wants me to be there for the baby then I will be, but I won’t pretend to be something I’m not, something I  _ was. _

 

“Do you feel you paid the price for it?” he asks suddenly, and I blink in confusion.

 

“I don’t know if I could.” I say, and he shakes his head.

 

“No, I mean do you regret the things you did? Will you do them again?” he asks, more insistent.

 

“Of course I regret them, Potter. Even if another Dark Lord surfaces, I know far too much now. Power is not worth killing for, hurting others for. If you die fighting for people, for everyone to be happy, that is much better than living without appreciating all forms of love.” I say, the words weighing heavy on me. I still can’t phrase them right, I have been trying for nearly a year, but I can’t capture the idea of the ultimate sacrifice for something so pure as love versus the painful thought of living to face what I faced in that Manor. 

 

“You’re a bloody git, and you’ll be just as involved with the baby as me. That means dispers, Draco, lots of them.” he says, shoulder checking me and giving me a look saying all there is to say, that he heard me and is happy with my answer, willing to leave it in the past if I am. 

  
  


By the time we’re in the Hospital wing for the appointment, he’s exhausted from classes and I’m exhausted second hand. As the baby grows, apparently our bond or whatnot will grow as well and I’ll be able to feel his emotions a bit, not as my own but more of a detached thing. 

 

Healer Greene is already in the room, and she grins once we walk in, moving to open up her bag. She sets about chatting and checking Harry over, making sure that his pulse, blood pressure and health in general are all up to par.

 

“The baby is about the size of a poppy seed just now, I believe you mentioned morning sickness?” she asks, and we both nod. She hands over some potion to help with that, explaining that contact between the two of us will also help a lot. She asks for general updates on how classes, meals and daily activities are going with the separation issue, and the meeting lasts a good half hour before she is scheduling the next.

 

“Great, I’ll see you in two week’s time boys. Do keep taking your vitamins, and owl me if there are any concerns. Oh! Before I forget, you may experience some other side effects, emotional ones, because of the nature of the bond. This could range from general fondness, anxiety over the other’s absence or an increased need for contact. I have another patient next, so I’ll be off. This book may help.” she says, pulling a thin book from her bag and handing it to me on her way out. The cover simply holds the title in gold lettering, ‘Emotional Guide to Bonds’. 

 

“Great, more books.” Harry sighs, and I bump into him half heartedly, already absorbed into the first page. He guides me through the castle towards the Great Hall, my nose in the book as he waves to several people passing by. I barely pay attention to where we sit, vaguely hearing Weasley’s voice as I begin the chapter on physical impacts.

 

“Malfoy.” Weasley’s sharp voice startles me out of my reading, and I look up with a glare. This book is interesting, I don’t want to be interrupted. 

 

“Yes?” I ask, cryptic. This has to be one of the first times he’s directly addressed me all year, and he sounds accusatory.

 

“Why the hell is my best mate telling me that you let him go outside this morning?” he demands, and I feel a bit of my Malfoy mask slip away in incredulity.

 

“You honestly think if Harry makes up his mind I can change it? I made him put on a warming charm.” I say, defensive. Of all people Weasley should know how stubborn the boy is, and he’s not a child, he can go out in the cold if he likes. 

 

“‘Mione says he shouldn’t be outside in this weather imn his- condition.” he says, a bit weaker than he’d started. He still refuses to acknowledge that his friend is pregnant, and I know that the idea is slowly growing on most witches and wizards since it’s only recently been tried on males and outside of pureblood families. I can tell he is coming from a good place, but he honestly shouldn’t accuse a Malfoy and expect anything less than to be put right. It just doesn’t do.

 

“I assume you are referring to his pregnancy, a very normal ‘condition’ becoming even more popular in the wizarding world among gay couples and therefore something you would be seeing Harry go through later in his life anyway. On the matter of his being outside, I have done the research and while it is unwise to stay out for hours or during say, a quidditch game, some outdoor exercise is recommended in the first few months.” I say, my book folded neatly before me as I prepare for what would be a long discussion if Hermione hadn’t cut in.

 

“Harry simply made it seem  like you were arguing out on the grounds, we hadn’t known it was for a short while or that you cast heating charms.” she mediates, effectively defending Ron and letting me know I’m right. For now, I will settle. If Weasley questions my ability to take care of a pregnant Potter again, I will rub my extensive research in his face.

 

I return to my book, the realization dawning on me as I read that because of this particular bond, Potter and I will be facing lots of changes. If we thought the separation was bad when it physically hurt, soon it will be emotionally draining, and we’ll find ourselves acting like a proper couple of saps. This will be interesting, I can’t imagine Potter being so ‘giddy’ as the book puts it when he is around me, nor ‘paralyzingly upset’ when I’m away or short with him. I have to set the book away when the next chapter title appears, ‘changes and sexual desires’. 

 

I can deal with all of that shite when it arrives. 

 

“Let’s go, if we want to stop by Slughorn’s before bed to get some dreamless sleep we have to go now.” I say as the last few students leave the great hall, only eighth years left. He stands after arguing for a few minutes just for the sake of being a little shite, and eventually we are walking through the dungeons and towards the potions offices. Harry is stopped in the entrance hall by a seventh year Gryffindor, asking about some assignment. He waves for me to go ahead, walking a careful four feet behind me as we’ve slowly eased into more separation after longer periods of contact. 

 

I pass the Slytherin common room on the way, and when I round the corner to the common room entrance two fifth years are speaking outside of it, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Harry and the other kid are still speaking about classes a ways away, and I curse under my breath, taking my wand out.

 

These are two of the many who have made their distaste for me quite clear in the form of hexes and slurs. Wonderful. 

 

“Death eater scum, I thought I told you never to come down here again. You aren’t to be near the common room, you’ve ruined our name enough. We don’t need a criminal ponce near our younger students, might catch your disease.” the slytherin taunts, and I roll my eyes. His insults are rather tame compared to what he normally throws at me, he must be losing his touch.

 

Before I can respond, he’s fired a stinging hex at me, and my shield charm is up just in time to block it, but cracks as the hex hits. I have to act only in self defense, to keep up my side of the ministry deal, and these idiots know it. My shield charm has improved over the year, needless to say.

 

He is about to fire another hex when the glass chandelier hanging above us in the high ceilinged hallway explodes, raining shards down onto them and partially on me. Turning with the two boys to look for the source, I feel a mix of anger, fear and something carnal, overpowering as I see Potter standing just behind me, his eyes shining with fury. Until now I’d somehow forgotten the way he looks when he is truly angry, the way I saw him in the war. Eyes shining and hands shaking, emanating power and magic and seeming invincible but oh so  _ human _ .

 

The two boys have ducked into the common room as soon as they saw Potter, and while his anger is presumably towards them I feel an irrational twinge of envy for them. I can feel Potter’s anger through the vague bond, and I know it’ll take quite a bit to ease him down, wandless magic requires an extreme level of power and emotion. The erratic baby magic doesn’t help either.

 

“I’m sorry.” I say, before I even fully grasp what I’m sorry for. I feel like I am in the wrong, like I am in his debt which is somewhat true even if he broke the life debt in court. His hands slowly stop shaking, and I tentatively take one in my hand, some of the tension in the room easing once we aren’t three feet away. 

 

“Shut up Malfoy.” He says simply, pulling me instead into a tight hug, my chin just over his shoulder with our height difference and his chest heaving beneath mine, currents of magic still running from him and yet I feel a bit of my focus dissipate, my arms curling around him as well. He feel inexplicably  _ right  _ in my arms, so much hurt and history between us and yet I can’t help but grip him tighter as my shoulders relax for the first time in weeks and his arms are the first ones I’ve felt in months, the comfort of such a mundane act shocking me. It’s a few minutes before either of us pulls away, and his eyes are just as confused but presumably soft as mine. 

 

“Whoa.” he murmurs, and I simply nod. If a hug is so powerful with the bond, what would anything more do? Or is it simply because it’s Potter, and everything with him as always been stronger and more intense ever since we were eleven and my hand hung rejected in the air. He’s always gotten under my skin, and he’s always been the first person my eyes find in a room, but can I truly still blame it all on our rivalry or hatred when a something so bloody hufflepuff as a hug has me feeling like nothing is wrong in my life?

  
“I still need the dreamless sleep.” he says, clearing his throat. Right, the potion. Walking next to him down towards SLughorn’s office, I ignore the slight blush in my cheeks when I feel fingers intertwine with mine. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks in, they begin to domesticate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, enjoy!

“Your feet are fucking cold.” 

 

“That’s why I put them under your warm back.”

 

“Please move away before I hex you.”

 

“I’m rather comfortable, thanks.” I stretch out further, my freezing and bare feet under Draco’s back on the couch in our rooms. 

 

“I’m going to punch you in the throat now.” he says, his eyes closed in exhaustion and removing any real heat from the threat.

 

“You’re such a gryffindor, resorting to violence in this way.” I chide, and the blonde glares at me, picking up a throw pillow and hitting me with it.

 

“How dare you insult me in this manner.” 

 

“Red is your favorite colour, and you are more cuddly than a pygmy puff. Who would have thought?” I quip, and I feel the nagging thought again. 

 

“Literally everyone in my house knows I am rather touchy, they’ve all had to put me to sleep playing with my hair at least once over the years.” he folds his arms, and I laugh at the idea of emotionless SLytherins having to coax Draco to sleep.

 

“Who knew you’d be the high maintenance one. It’s almost as if you’re the pregnant one.” 

 

“Please, deny it as you may but you’re already showing and people have noticed.” he says, looking down to my stomach. I’m not showing that much, it’s about two weeks in so I look a month pregnant muggle wise. If I wear the right robes you can’t see, but in the rooms I just wear a tee shirt like a normal person instead of the stuffy school uniform, and my stomach is clearer that way.

 

“Only you, and that’s because you’re obsessed with my belly.” I defend, and he looks away, his cheeks tinged with pink. Interesting.

 

“It’s the magic involved, I’m drawn to it.” he says.

 

“Ah. Well, the baby wants tea, and I am terribly comfortable right now so.” I hint, dramatically cuddling deeper into the couch cushions. I’ve taught him how to make tea the way I like since I’ll no doubt be wanting some later when I can’t move around as easily.

 

“You’re a prat. My child is going to be half prat.” he whines, despite getting up to brew tea.

 

“I assume the other half will be git, then?” I call out once he’s started the pot, and I know I won’t lose my tea. Instead of answering he laughs, and I smile softly.

 

This is weird. I shouldn’t be making Malfoy laugh, or smiling. I know I want to be his friend, but all of this seems so… natural, domestic. He moves like he’s lived with me longer than Ron, or like he knows my odd habits that even Hermione hasn’t picked up on. It is all happening a little too smoothly, and I keep waiting for the boat to capsize. For our pasts to come up, or an off hand muggle comment. 

 

Instead, I’ve gone to Muggle studies classes with him when I have free periods, and I’ve watched as he is fascinated by the class, his eyes lit up in interest as he mutters a few subconscious comments about wishing he’d found all of this sooner, how could he have missed this, how do they do it?

 

I also keep watching to make sure the stinging hexes he faces on a regular basis aren’t continuing, and it helps that he can’t be anywhere further than five feet from me and nobody is willing to face what the two fifth years faced in front of the slytherin common room. We’ve found that we can handle further distances the more we touch, and so we’ve fallen into the habit of poking each other in conversations despite already having the other’s attention, or sitting closer than usual at desks in class. It all happens so flawlessly, and I watch as holes I hadn’t realized were there in my life are slowly filled with all things Draco, as if they were carved for him. His tie on the back of my chair, my glasses resting next to his wand or our notes being intermixed throughout our bags. 

 

I don’t know anymore what is the magic with the baby, or what is the same pull that has been forcing us to clash for seven years or made me try to convince him to be my friend all of this year. Regardless, Draco has always been the one who meets my every shouting match and curse, every glare and every high. Until this year, I hated everything he stood for and I thought I hated him, but then I no longer had the threat of death hanging over my head. Now, I can tell he has just as much passion and anger as I do, if not more, and he only knew what his father told him. Now, I see his face light up in muggle studies and I see him thank house elves when they pop into our rooms to bring us a snack. 

 

I’ve begun distinguishing him differently in my head, as Malfoy and  _ Draco.  _ He returns with tea, and I jolt from my reverie taking the mug.

 

“So, you never did answer my question.” he drawls, not quite looking up from his mug as he folds neatly into the corner of the couch, legs crossed. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.

 

“About names.” he elaborates, and I make a noise of recognition. Yes, that talk ended up with us arguing outside on a rock.

 

“Well, there are loads of people I’d like to name them after, but I know you have the whole star tradition.” I say, and his head snaps up for a moment.

 

“Star thing?”

 

“You know, how your family likes to name their children after constellations.”

 

“Yes, yes I know my family’s traditions. I merely wondered why you knew them.” he says, and I feel my face heat up. I’ve slowly realized how much I knew about Draco from basically stalking him sixth year, and sometimes I surprise myself with the random shit I know, yet shouldn’t/

 

“Well, do you want to name them after a bloody ball of fire or not?”

 

“I don’t know, in case you haven’t noticed I don’t quite get on with the lot of them anymore.” he snaps back. Here it is, although I instigated it. I don’t know why the subject of names gets me so upset, maybe it’s the fact that there are just too many friends I’ve lost who I want to honour. 

 

“Sorry.” I say, and I feel a wave of guilt and sensitivity rush over me. I’m so rude, how could I shove his family in his face like that when I know what he’s endured from them? He’ll never forgive me, he hate me-

 

“Why are you crying?” he asks, bewildered. I wipe frustratedly at my eyes, only for the tears to turn into hysterics.

 

“I’m s-so sorry, D-Draco. I don’t know what to name the baby, e-everyone is dead and I w-want to name it after all of them.” I cry, and I feel my magic and emotion slowly soften as he pulls me to his chest, arms secured around me. 

 

“Harry, shh, it’s okay. I know, you can always have lots of children, we don’t have to talk about names right now. You still have time, shh.” he soothes, and I hiccup, the tears slowing down as his words and magic sink in. Yawning ,I am realize he probably put my dreamless sleep in the tea. 

 

“Will you have all of the babies with me?” I ask, and I vaguely feel him stiffen before forcefully relaxing.

 

“We’ll see, Potter.” he laughs, and I fall asleep laid over his legs, hot tea running cold on the table, forgotten.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week eight, Draco begins feeling possessive and the Healer decides its time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy!

Waking up slowly, I look over to find that Draco is already showering, which is probably the source of my discomfort. Showers and things were going well, we were able to be apart but the baby seems to have kicked up the tension a bit since the discomfort is returning. Things like hugs and touches aren’t lasting as long as they had before. 

 

I showered the night before, so I roll out of bed and walk closer to the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom, digging through a wardrobe for a shirt. Finding one of mine, I slip my arms through and begin to button it up, neck to bottom just like usual. Until, once I reach the largest part of my stomach which still isn’t too big won’t button. 

 

“This is bullshit.” I mutter, trying again. It isn’t more than a slight bump, though I suppose it isn’t the flat stomach from quidditch. I didn’t think my shirts were tight, but I suppose they were snug under my robes.

 

“Draco, can I borrow a shirt?” I ask, and he shouts some form of agreement from the shower. Taking one of his larger shirts, I slip it on and button it easily, hiding the bump a bit more. Thank Merlin he didn’t ask why I wanted to borrow it, he subconsciously can’t seem to stop looking at or touching my stomach.

 

“Is there an appointment with Healer Greene today?” Draco asks, walking out of the bathroom. Turning, I nearly jump out of my skin when I see that he hasn’t dressed, still wet from the shower with a towel far too low on his waist and his hair unstyled.

 

He’s all pale angles, tall and slim planes with little beads of water dotting his broad shoulders and chest. His hair comes near his shoulders, white and glistening in the light and all of it stark against the black towel. I definitely don’t stare at the sharp lines leading in a v towards the towel, or the dusting of blonde hair trailing from his belly button into the towel, and it’s perfectly normal to imagine ripping the towel off to reveal the rest of his miles-long legs and-

 

“Harry?” he asks, and I look back up to his face, shaking my head slightly. What am I doing?

 

“Um, yes, we do.” I answer, turning back around to pull on robes.

 

“Wait, why did you need my shirt?” he asks, and from the shit eating grin on his face I can tell he knows. Apparently, Draco has always loved babies and when he was little a distant aunt was pregnant a few times and he was close to her throughout each pregnancy. Just my luck to be pregnant with the only baby crazy man in Hogwarts.

 

“My belly is too fucking big for my shirt.” I say back, not turning away from the dresser while I tie my tie. He laughs, getting dressed himself and I definitely am not disappointed. Good riddance, who walks around naked looking like that? 

 

“You’ll have to keep Hermione and Ginny at bay, they keep asking me when you’ll wear the shirts they transfigured for you.” he teases, and I groan. They’d transfigured maternity clothes to fit my shoulders and chest and not carry so much room in the breast area, and I’d tried one on before shoving them all deep in the corner of the wardrobe. They ridiculously accentuate my belly making me seem much more pregnant than I am, and I hadn’t missed Draco’s hints that he liked them better. 

 

I look fat, and I will hide that as long as I can. I’ve grown accustomed to what I look like normally, I’ve grown into my height a bit and I was finally reaching that point of self confidence despite the starved look I have always adopted from either the Dursley’s,  my own poor care or a year on the run. I’t just how my body has begun to look, no matter how much I eat, and I have found that while my hair still won’t lie down if I grow it out a bit it’s better, and I have begun to look less like a boy and more like a man. And then, I got knocked up by the guy I just wanted to be friends with. 

 

“Harry.” Draco says, and I realize I’ve been standing staring at the mirror for awhile, at least long enough for him to be fully dressed. 

 

Moving to finish getting dressed, I avoid his scrutining eyes. 

 

“Yes?” I ask, still keeping my voice empty of any emotion. 

 

“Why are you thinking you’re fat?” he demands, and I swivel my head to stare at him. How would he know what I’m thinking?

 

“What?”

 

“I can- it’s like, a feeling, but it isn’t mine, it’s detached somehow, and sometimes words slip through, I didn’t think it was important, but… Listen, you aren’t fat, idiot. You’ve always been good looking, but this year you’re… nevermind, just, take my word for it. You aren’t fat, and you shouldn’t be afraid to show off your belly. This spell is rare, sure, but it’s hard to make work on men, it takes two very strong magical signatures. You’re rare, and you are beautiful pregnant, you were great before. Besides, since when does Harry Potter care what others think?” his voice grows more determined as he speaks, and I promptly burst into tears.

 

“What the f- Harry? Harry, shh, it’s okay, what did I say?” I shake my head, I don’t know why but I am so  _ sad  _ and it’s all really loud and I just want to stay here, I don’t feel like going to class or seeing people or having them all look at me because he’s wrong, I am fat and I can’t handle this and what if I really have this baby? It didn’t seem real, but now I can see my stomach and holy-fucking-shit there is a real life inside of me and it is going to need shoes and a name and food, and I can’t handle that. I don’t know what a childhood looks like, I don’t know how to take care of a baby. I have learned that my life goes where it goes, I have to face shitty situations like the dark Lord and nothing goes according to plans, but this isn’t something I can just face.

 

I can’t do this.

 

“I can’t, I can’t take care of a b-baby, I don’t know what a childhood looks like or h-how much food it needs or what to name it. I can’t make it happy or even keep it alive, I c-can’t, I can’t do this and I’m failing and fat and everyone can see it, I know how to fight Dark Lords, I don’t know h-how to be pregnant or do this.” I cry, and I vaguely realize he’s pulled me to his chest and is running hands down my back. 

 

“Harry, shhh. It’s all going to be okay. It’s all fine, shhh.” he coos, and I can feel an odd emotion growing in the back of my head, I know it isn’t my own but it’s soothing and calm and emanates something, a kind of power that I’m drawn to. It slowly calms me down, and I take a deep breath before pulling away, wiping my face. 

 

“I’m sorry.” I say, and his laugh startles me into looking up at him. His eyes are so- grey, and bright yes, like usual but they look oddly open and unguarded. It’s like I can feel what he is feeling, or read his eyes or something. Odd.

 

“Don’t be sorry. Listen, we don’t have to go to classes this morning, I’ll write to the Headmistress. Let’s just get read for the appointment, today we’ll do an ultrasound, aren’t you excited? You’ll be a fantastic dad, Harry. And you won’t be alone in this.” he says, and I nod, undoing my tie. 

 

I move to get a tee shirt or something to go back to sleep in, as Draco writes a brief letter to Mcgonagall. By the time I am comfortable in a huge tee shirt, Draco has already gotten a reply delivered by a flustered looking Hermione and Ginny. 

 

“Harry, oh Harry we were so worried because Mcgonagall said you couldn’t come to classes and we didn’t know what could be wrong, and- Harry James Potter! Why aren’t you in a maternity shirt? They have charms on them, you idiot! To help the baby and to make you more comfortable, they’re like extra balance for the baby’s magic as it grows.” Hermione speaks in a rush, bombarding me with words as Ginny stubbornly asks Draco where a maternity shirt is. 

 

I sheepishly try to explain that I didn’t know they helped the baby, I just didn’t feel like wearing them, but Hermione is having none of it. Finally, they have me in a dark green shirt that looks like it should be much too big for me around the middle until it’s on and it magically forms to my belly.

 

“Aw, look at you! You’re only about two months along, muggle speaking. You’re still so bitty, you haven’t put on any weight aside from the baby belly. May I feel?” Ginny coos, and I nod uncertainty. This is fucking bizarre, while Ginny and I are on much better terms now that she knows my aversion to dating her again had more to do with my preference for blokes than her, I hadn’t pictured myself being pregnant before her. 

 

Hermione and Ginny’s hands are just barely on my belly when a sudden shield charm springs up, folding between me and the girls suddenly and their hands meet nothing but magic.

 

Three confused pairs of eyes find Draco, who’s hand is out and is obviously the source of wandless magic. His stare is intense, and he seems to be trying a great deal to calm down. I try doing what he did earlier, and send soothing feelings his way. It seems to work, and he slowly relaxes. 

 

“I- I’m sorry, I felt really protective, and possessive all of a sudden… I don’t know what that was.” he explains, and the idea has a stupid grin curling on my face. I don’t feel like thinking about why, but regardless I allow Draco to feel my stomach first, then hold my hand while the other two have a go. It keeps him much more in control than before, and I invite the girls to stay for lunch. We have some food brought over from the kitchens, and by the time they leave I feel much better.

 

As they are walking out the door, Hermione stops to hug me tightly, her hair filling my face. 

 

“You should go for it, you know. Ron and I won’t mind.” she whispers quickly, before pulling away, rushing out the door before I can question her cryptic message. Go for what? Why would Ron and her mind?

 

“Harry, it’s time for the appointment, are you okay wearing that shirt?” Draco asks, coming out of the bedroom carrying a little journal which he’s been using to catalogue things for the Healer. He’s tried to get me to do it, but it seems like a boring chore. 

 

“I’m fine, let’s go.” I say, waiting for him to meet me at the door so we can walk close enough to keep the bond sated. We have to walk up just as lunch ends, and so the corridors are a little crowded, making me regret wearing this shirt. We’re just about to walk past the Charms classrooms when it happens, a fifth year boy walks a little too close to me for comfort, and Draco’s shield makes a reappearance, though much more aggressive this time hitting the boy in the face.

 

“Sorry, got a bit too close. My apologies.” I say in a rush, tugging Draco by the arm away towards the hospital. Thank Merlin it was wandless magic, it looks much better if they think the erratic magic is coming from me instead of Draco.

 

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Draco says, a guilty look on his face until I wind our fingers together, offering him a smile.

 

“Hey, you didn’t break a chandelier.” I tease, earning a small smile as we open the doors to the infirmary. Healer Greene hugs us both, reading through Draco’s journal and having us recount our erratic magic from today first. 

 

“Hm, I’d say things are getting a bit stronger. I’d like to reassure you that it gets easier from here on out, but that is usually only with bonded couples.” she says, pausing when I open my mouth to ask a question.

 

“Sorry, I thought we were bonded?” I ask, confused. 

 

“Yes, well I am referring to the Marriage bond. Usually couples who undergo these spells are already bonded matrimonially, so the effects wear off after the first month. For you two, however they will only get stronger until the baby arrives. There are steps you can take to ease this transition, and we can discuss those if you’d like while I check over Harry.” she says, and I nod turning to lie down on the bed I’m sitting on. I know the drill by now, and I raise my shirt up to my chest so she can get to my stomach, waving her wand over it. 

 

“Well, the bond between you two is quite strong due to your er- passionate history, and talking that through can help ease some of the tension. It will also help us to figure out if the baby is trying to force the negative energy away, or if she or he is picking out the stronger emotions and assuming a lover’s bond, it really is unclear at this point. The baby knows things are difficult, and it is trying to force you two together some way or another. The only thing now is to talk it out, and see where that leaves us. Would you prefer doing this on your own, or having a mediated conversation, perhaps?” she explains, and I feel even more tense than before. 

 

I don’t really care to talk about the war, ever. I have not shared the full details with anyone, not even Hermione and Ron. I haven’t told anyone how Voldemort came to think I was dead, or what I saw in the pensieve. I haven’t shared or thought about any of it, and now I’ll have to talk about that and all six years of my schoolboy rivalry with the man himself. Who used to stand for everything I hated, and now has me blushing and feeling odd in my own skin for reasons I can’t understand. Who now loves muggle studies and holds serious conversations with Hermione about the treatment of house elves, and who wears fucking mismatched socks with all the elegance and grace a Malfoy always has. 

 

Where was I?

 

“We can talk it through on our own.” I say, and she nods. 

 

“Headmistress Mcgonagall has spoken to me, and you two have the day off tomorrow from classes to talk and get a better hold on things. I believe she’ll be in here to talk to both of you about something else soon here, but that can wait. I understand there is a Hogsmeade trip this weekend?” at our nods, she continues.

 

“You two should go down to the little baby shop that is on the corner there, start getting clothes and things. Baby proofing your quarters and what not, if you decide to stay here for the last two weeks with the baby, before school really lets out. I know Mcgonagall has agreed to move the dates for NEWTs around a bit, though I’m afraid her tolerance for moving them another year is rather low. It seems the circumstances never do stay in your favor, boys.” she digs through her bag a bit, pulling out a tube of gel and a wand, a screen materializing in the air next to us.

 

“We should be able to see them better.  This week is important, your baby now measures about 1.6cm. Their embryonic tail is just about gone, and all their organs, muscles and nerves are beginning to function. Your baby's hands now bend at the wrist, and their feet are starting to lose their webbed appearance. Their eyelids cover more of their eyes and tastebuds are forming on their tongue. And it should be around here, ah yes. That is the heartbeat, boys.” a quick little thumping begins, and I choke on the air as I listen to it, tears springing to my eyes. It’s real, that’s my  _ baby’s  _ heartbeat. My tiny little baby, and it has a heart and it’s living and merlin help me I’m terrified but I just want to hold them.

 

I feel Draco’s hand squeeze mine, and I look up to find a similar expression of awe on his face and unshed tears in his eyes. 

 

“This is also a good time to begin talking to the baby, it will no doubt recognize your magic once born but as ears and hearing develop it helps for the baby to learn your voice.” the healer explains, and she waits for our nod of approval before packing away the wand and gel, spelling my belly clean. She leaves for a moment to talk to Pomfrey, and I look down to my uncovered belly, splaying my hands on the firm flesh in wonder. It isn’t fat, it is a living baby with a heartbeat. I’ll get to hold it’s little hand, and it will be able to come to school here in eleven year’s time. 

 

I hate to say it, but I am glad for the new excuse not to go into Auror training with Ron. I don’t feel like chasing horcruxes and death eaters for the rest of my life, I’ve had my fill. I just didn’t know how to explain that to him, or anyone else for that matter since Kingsley is offering such a great job and everyone expects me to do it. I can’t wait to tell them I’m not doing it, I’m working a safer job and taking care of my baby. 

 

“I’ll take care of you, I’ll stop being so gryffindor and think things through, I’ll keep you safe. You’re going to be so happy out here, everyone will love you. ‘Mione can’t stop talking about you, you’ll have so many people watching out for you. I’ll mess up lots, but I promise no harm will ever come to you, you’ll never go hungry or stay in a cupboard, you’ll never be anything but safe. I promise. I already love you so much.” I whisper to my belly, all my attention on the small bump as the words seem to come with no thought, my chest seeming to lighten with the truth of the words. I am damn scared, but I know I already love this baby and I’ll do my best. 

 

It’s done me well in the past.

 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy.” the Headmistress steps into the little curtained space, and I startle, pulling my shirt back down and blushing as I realize Draco was standing there listening the whole time. I’m an idiot.

 

“Headmistress.” I smile, and she conjures tea and biscuits, suddenly making this seem like a meeting in her office. 

 

“So, I’d like to propose something. You two were on the rebuilding team this summer for the school, and I wanted to do something to celebrate that team as well as the other schools, all the people in the war, and much more. I considered something like the Yule Ball, like your fourth year. Of course, it would have a different style to it, many more speeches and dedications and what not, but I think a large purpose is to show that we have all grown. That we have come out of the war as different and better people, and I think a prime example is you two. So, if we conduct such an event, I’d also like you two to make a speech.” she says, sitting back to await our responses.

 

Before I can even think it through, I’m nodding, agreeing for both of us. Draco nods, looking a bit pale but just as determined as I inexplicably feel. 

 

“Good. Well, I believe Healer Greene has let you two know, but you will be exempt from classes tomorrow to discuss whatever needs discussing. I trust you will stay civil, and efficient, though I am willing to stretch the time a bit if needed. Let me know boys, Harry, you look lovely.” she smiles, and I grin thanking her before she sweeps out. 

 

As we leave, the air is thick and we silently agree to leave the talking until tomorrow, eating in our quarters with half hearted chit chat and going about our nighttime routines in silence. When I naturally lay down close to him, our legs tangled, I can’t help but wonder if we’ll even be speaking this time tomorrow. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco see each other's memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rough, and may be triggering. I can't mark the specific areas, because it's basically the whole chapter. Just a warning, enjoy!

Draco Pov

 

Waking up slowly, I take a deep breath and blink away the bright light filtering through the doorway into the sitting room where we must have left the windows open. 

 

Harry is still sound asleep, laying on his side facing the other direction. My hand was slung over his stomach, and I wait a moment after moving away to make sure that the bond won’t punish me for it. Once the soft buzzing in my head stops I move towards the bathroom and shower quickly, foregoing most of the beauty products I apply since nobody will be seeing me today. Well, nobody but Potter. 

 

A knock sounds on the entrance to our chambers, and I pull on some trousers and a shirt before walking over to the door. Opening it carefully and warily, I find the Headmistress on the other side holding a large stone basin, curiously resembling a pensieve. 

 

Letting her in, I help her set the heavy thing down since she can’t chance levitating something of such value. 

 

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Is Mr. Potter awake yet?” she asks, shifting her robes once the basin is sat on my desk. 

 

“No, he’s asleep. May I ask, is that a pensieve?” I hand her a cup of tea, watching the swirling mist in what is now unmistakably a pensieve, though I don’t know why she’d bring it here.

 

“Indeed. I thought your discussion with Mr. Potter today would go best if you shared the story through memories, and so I will be here to make sure you each get the whole story from the other side before leaving you to it. I trust that you would be able to do this on your own, but this way will go much faster.” she explains, and I pale a bit. I don’t like having my brain and memories looked at, I’d gotten my fill when the Dark Lord was in my home using Legilimency. 

 

“I suppose there isn’t any way to avoid this?” I ask, and she shakes her head no. My head begins throbbing, and I realize I’ve probably been away from Harry too long. 

 

“Only Mr. Potter will be viewing your memories, and this should help immensely with the bond so that if your baby is trying to force the tension away, those side effects will dissolve. However, if the baby has different intentions, which may sound ridiculous, you two boys are in for a ride.” she says, and we both turn towards the doorway when Harry walks out.

 

“Good morning Headmistress.” he says, sleep still clogging his voice as he stands pressed against me. The bond eases up a bit once we touch, and I sigh in relief. 

 

“Very well, I will need your memories now. Who would like to go first?” she asks, and I can feel Harry begin to panic through the bond. I twine my fingers through his, and he calms a bit.

 

“C’mon, I’ll just see you kicking the Dark Lord’s arse. You’re the one who should be scared to see mine.” I sooth, and he looks into my eyes, clearly still unsure.

 

“I’m still sticking around for the baby, no matter what I see. I will also agree to be… not as involved if you don’t think I’m fit to be a parent after this.  I promise, Potter.” I say, and he sighs before nodding. I step closer to the pensieve, pulling out my wand. 

 

“Actually, Mr. Malfoy, I will be extracting the memories. Certain things need to be seen that you may not think are important.” Mcgonagall says, and my eyes widen before I nod. At least it won’t be my fault what she picks for him to see. 

 

“Draco, you may go in with him if you’d like, or you can choose to wait here.” she says, tone a bit more gentle than before. 

 

“I’ll go in.” I say. I may not want to relive any of it, but if I have to do damage control at least I’ll know what he sees. She lifts her wand to my head, taking several memories from which I only get a vague feeling before they are placed into the pensieve. 

 

“Okay. Boys, if you would.” McGonagall says, stepping back as we step forward. Glancing to Harry I watch his jaw clench as he nods before plunging us both into the basin. 

 

The odd, falling motion lasts a moment before we land roughly onto a marble floor, belonging to the Manor. This seems… early, somehow. I realize why when I spot myself, about nine years old running through the back doors into the foyer. I have mud on my clothes, and I wince at the footprints it leaves behind on the shiny white marble. My mother isn’t home, but I can hear my father’s footsteps on the stairs, feel his cool grey eyes boring into me as if he were real. 

 

“Dad! I trained one, I got a peacock to listen to my orders!” little Draco cries, obvious excitement and pride on his face as he beams up at my father. At that point I was still striving for his approval, for his acceptance. I just wanted to prove myself to him.

 

“Draco. You know better than to trail filthy mud throughout my home, I would have thought you learned your lesson after last time.” he smiles nastily, and I watch as little Draco crumples before my eyes, looking behind him and realizing what he’d done, what this meant. 

 

“No, please father. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I-” 

 

“I know you won’t, Draco. Because this time, you will learn. Dobby.” with a snap of his fingers, Dobby appears in front of Lucius, head bowed. 

 

“Draco, choose an elf. Dobby, Draco has disobeyed my rules once more, I need you to retrieve the iron.” Lucius says, and I feel my blood run cold. I don’t want to watch this, I remember every terrible second of it. Seeing it again, through adult eyes I realize how sadistic, how cruel my father was. I’d grown to hate him as he followed the Dark Lord, as he had me branded with the mark. But until now, I’d never realized how much of his sanity left much earlier on.

 

“No, please. I don’t want to chose an elf, I don’t want them hurt, I’ll-” little Draco pleads, though it is useless. I should have just picked an elf, what happened next was much worse.

 

“Abeth. Draco has broken the rules. Take the iron now, and punish yourself until I say stop.” The elderly, female elf has watery eyes as she takes the muggle iron from Dobby, running the scorching metal down her frame and letting out shrieks of pain, but never stopping. They never did stop, and little Draco screams his head off until Lucius silences him, freezes him to the spot with magic. Forces him to watch, to think that this is his fault and he was a bad child for hurting house elves like this. My favorite house elf, she nursed me from the moment I was born until now. 

 

And she ironed herself to death while I had to watch, screaming silently as tears streamed my face. I hated him, but this wasn’t my dad’s fault. This was my fault, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hurt her and I killed her. I can remember this mantra in my head at nine years old, and I almost forget I’m in a memory with Harry bloody Potter, until the scene fades into something else. 

 

This one is a few years later, my first year at Hogwarts. It’s winter break, and I am waiting for my mother’s owl to arrive telling me what carriage to leave on. Little Draco unrolls the letter that finally comes, and I read the letter over his shoulder, mother doesn’t have time for me to come home, father must host a business party. I’ll have to stay at school, but I’d already boasted to all of my friends that I’d be leaving. So instead, we stand as the pensieve seems to speed up, showing me smuggling food from the Great Hall early and hiding in the dorms for the entire break, all of the slytherins in my year gone home. 

 

Then on Christmas, showing me waking up to no presents, but a small letter from my mother saying that she didn’t have time with Dad’s work, so we’ll have to have christmas this summer. I watch myself, eleven and alone, forgotten in the dorms and wasting away in shame because my family didn’t have time for me to come home. 

 

To my embarrassment I hear myself, talking to myself as I had no company during the break. Muttering about stupid Potter, and why was he so rude and why wouldn’t he be my friend. I didn’t realize how much I talked about him back then, and I try to ignore the blush on my cheeks as my former self goes on and on, bitter and alone. 

 

At least this memory wasn’t too bad. The scene fades again, and I recognize a younger Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, if only a few years younger. He’s following me, I I didn’t know he was following me as I went for an abandoned bathroom away from the Great Hall.. I can’t breathe, it’s too hot and I know I can’t do this but he’ll kill my parents if I don’t. I push the door open to a bathroom, tugging my sweater off and finally, finally breaking down as the weight of it all hits me. How scared I am, because I don’t want to kill again, I killed Abeth and my first pet because I wasn’t good enough. I can’t kill Dumbledore, because I know that I want him to win this war. I know he’s the only thing holding  _ him  _ back from killing my family and hundreds of muggles. 

 

I am so scared, and alone and I hate that I’m not good enough for either side. I know I can’t do it, I know and I hate it all and I just want it to end when I see a face in the mirror, the last person I want to see and the boy who can’t help me anymore. 

 

Spinning around I fire off curses, anything I can think of as I dodge all of his spells and for the first time this year I feel alive. I am not scared of getting hurt, and when I feel my skin slice open and the wet floor against my back I watch the light leave my eyes, I see myself give up and accept death as Potter, idiotic and wonderful Potter screams until help arrives. 

 

And I watch myself sob as my chance to die is taken, as my sentence is sealed. 

 

The scene shifts again, and I’m back in the manor though it is darker, more sinister. The Dark Lord is here now, and hisses of parseltongue echo on the marble halls as all hope and joy is sucked from the very air, the halls freezing cold and smelling of death. Nagini’s dinner leftovers lay in various rooms, in various stages of decay. I can feel his presence in my mind as he trifles through our thoughts, forces us to see things. 

 

I can hear screams, though they are distant, several floors away. The hard wood of the high back chair I am in digs into my skin, the floating body above our heads screaming silently. Death eaters line the table, and Nagini is nonchalantly slithering across the table top whilst the Dark Lord speaks to her. 

 

I listen, terrified as the Dark Lord lists off different thought crimes we have committed over the week, things he has found in our heads or missions we hadn’t carried out perfectly. After each offense is listed, he describes the form of punishment we are to face. 

 

And then he gets to me, and my parents. 

 

“Draco, your head and thoughts are particularly troublesome. Narcissa, Lucius, you have both disappointed me greatly but I see no use in wasting efforts on each of you individually. You will watch your son under the cruciatus, and you will watch as he is tortured. I only hope you have learned your lesson.” he says, glee prominent in his voice as he moves on to Macnair. I try to breath, to remind myself that this happens every week, it won’t be so bad. It’ll be over soon. 

 

The memory fades a few hours later, where I am being hit with the cruciatus. I flinch at the image, the memory. Watching myself, starved and writhing in pain as I scream and make animal sounds, ripped from my throat without my permission. As invisible knives slice my skin open, only for it to seal and be sliced again. My back and chest are lined with open cuts he hadn't decided to heal, when he grows bored and leave me to try and heal naturally, shivering on the ground. 

 

This was the day that I was asked to identify Harry Potter. Yes, there is aunt Bella barging into the room and yanking me to my feet, spelling clothes onto my torso and ignoring my cry of pain. As she takes me into the main hall, where Harry stands disfigured badly by a stinging hex. I know it’s him, I spent six years at school watching him, but I refuse to sell him out. 

 

“No. I mean, i can’t be sure, but I don’t think so.” Draco says, and I watch myself step away, as chaos ensues. 

The scene turns into another one of my father being disappointed and cruel, and myself trying to win his approval. Years of memories flash before us, as my friends leave and Potter always wins and my father grows more and more evil. We even see one I had blocked out, where my father had hit my mother across the cheek for speaking out against him, and I’d tried to defend her. Where another house elf died and my mother told me not to try to help so much. 

 

The scene fades, and I am in the castle during the battle of Hogwarts. I watch myself go from defending and not fighting, to fighting any death eater in sight. I watch as I fight my own, winning but ending up badly injured throughout the night. I remember all of the death, all of the suffering during the battle. And then I see Harry Potter, supposedly dead, carried in the arms of my old teacher as Voldemort boasts and my parents call me towards them. 

 

And I watch myself stand firm, telling them no as Neville Longbottom speaks out against Voldemort, as the Dark Lord’s anger grows and Harry Potter, the boy who lived tumbled out of the giant’s arms, very much alive. 

 

Our departure from the pensieve is sudden and sharp, and I gasp as I blink in my new surroundings. McGonagall nods grimly, and nobody says a word as she extracts some memories from Harry, dropping them into the pensieve and nodding at us again. This time when we dive in, the scene is unfamiliar. I’d expected Hogwarts, but instead found a small broom cupboard. 

 

I look around, and I find that the ground is completely covered by a dingy mattress and a thin coat which I assume makes for a blanket. Little muggle army men figurines that I recognize from my muggle studies class are on the shelf which I’d think would hold cleaning supplies. 

 

“This was my bedroom. Come on.” Harry says suddenly, and the weight of the tiny cupboard hits me. This is where he  _ lived?  _ This is his room?

 

When we walk out, I see a tiny Harry, standing in huge clothes and looking up at a large, mustached man who is a garish red colour. He is yelling, that much is clear, but I can’t understand what about. It sounds like a lot of muggle words, I just know Harry used some machine instead of cleaning.

 

Watching in horror, I see the huge man raise a meaty hand, knocking Harry about and leaving bruises blooming on the pale skin of the starved looking boy. This was his home? This was his family? 

 

I had it easy compared to him. 

 

The man beats him until he can’t stand, and then pushes him into the cupboard we were just standing in, locking it from the outside. The scene changes, but only a bit as we seem to be in the same house but a different room. The huge man beats him once more, as the other two, a horse faced woman and a mini version of the man yell verbal abuse at him. I watch as he cleans the floor with harmful chemicals, works in the garden with little food or nourishment and I watch years of beatings and hate. 

 

I can’t believe he’s still standing. I can’t believe I ever thought I had it bad. 

 

When Harry begins going to Hogwarts, I find that he watched me just as much, and one of his memories is also of the fight in the bathroom. I feel his panic when he sees me, bleeding on the ground and realizes what he’s done. I watch as Severus heals me, kicking Harry out to hide some book.

 

I watch him battling Voldemort his first year, then Tom Riddle his second. I watch him find his godfather as innocent, and fight off hundreds of dementors. I watch the night in the grave yard, facing Voldemort and seeing his dead parents. 

 

I watch the battle in the Ministry, and the odd rooms Harry goes through to find the prophecy. I watch as his only chance at a family, his only relative and Godfather dies before his eyes, leaves without warning. I watch as he breaks down in Dumbledore’s office afterwards, and I watch as he has to accept that Sirius Black died. 

 

I watch him slice his own hand open with that godawful quill of Umbridge’s, barely flinching and refusing to give her the satisfaction of showing that she’s hurting him. He stays hours later than any other student had, because Umbridge only stopped once you’d broken down. And he never did. 

 

Then the war begins. I watch the golden trio on the run, and their struggle to take turns with the awful horcruxes, their struggle to stay alive. When the scene changes to a snowy landscape, in a small town I look around confused to find that we are in a graveyard. I haven’t seen the battle yet, so I’m confused as to whether this is before or after, but then I read the two headstones he stands in front of. Lily and James Potter. I watch as he talks of wishing he were with them, buried under the snow forever. I feel my heart break for the little boy I’ve watched grow up in minutes, bred for a war he didn’t want to be a part of, a little boy who had everything taken from him. 

 

I watch as he has to relive Snape’s memories, and I go through the dizzying paradox of watching him go through the pensieve. I watch as he realizes, understands he was raised to die. That he can’t win this war, and also stay alive. 

 

I walk with him into the forest, I see the ghosts of his family appear with the resurrection stone. I watch this incredibly brave man walk to his death, not even raising his wand to fight Voldemort and I watch in awe as he really does die. I’d never understood the details of that night, nobody has. But I sit in the white King’s Cross station, as he asks Dumbledore about where he is. I watch him realize he has to go back now, that he has to fight.

 

I watch his internal struggle, as he wishes he could just stay and be done. I understand, how terribly difficult life can seem compared to the rest one finds after life.

 

But he goes back anyway. And I watch him fight Voldemort, killing him once and for all as he knows his friends have died and he didn’t have to come back here. 

 

This time when I rise from the Pensieve, McGonagall is sitting and drinking tea. I sit as well, head throbbing with the onslaught of emotions, questions and information.

 

“Well, I will leave you two to talk. These memories were not chosen blindly, and I declined the route of choosing your most painful memories as there are unfortunately so many for each of you. I hope this helps, do owl me if you have trouble.” she rises from her seat, taking the pensieve and shutting the door behind her. 

 

“I don’t, I don’t know where to even begin.” Harry says weakly from beside me, and I nod. Thankfully the headmistress left behind a strong pot of tea, and I pour us some before talking.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had it so bad growing up, that was awful. I mean, I’ve grown to love muggles but those… those people, you didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t deserve any of it, I don’t know how you didn’t break being bred for war, and all of those expectations. Everyone, especially me gave you such a hard time when you already had all of that weight on your shoulders and you still came back, you still chose to live and to fight. I don’t know why, or how but you came back and I’m so sorry. I am sorry your first year of freedom, you ended up like this, stuck with me. I’m just… I don’t know how else to say it, I’m sorry you had to deal with any of that.” I say, finding that I begin babbling as I try to convey how much guilt these images bring up, how much I wish I could take it all away. 

 

He looks into my eyes, seeming to search for something. 

 

“No, I’m sorry. Your father, what he did to you, and then having the Dark Lord in your home-” he begins but I shake my head.

 

“My father was a bad man, but I wasn’t starved. I wasn’t photographed and picked apart by every news source as a Dark Lord hunted me down and killed every relative and friend dear to me.” I shake my head, and he swallows thickly. 

 

“Well, I suppose we both have shitty lives then. I always assumed you were a git for no reason, but for what it’s worth I’m sorry I declined your friendship that day. I’ve regretted that one for some time, actually. And I have come to peace with everything. I do have a family in the Weasleys, and I’m about to start one of my own with you, so.” he says, and I feel my eyes widen as I gape at him.

 

“You can’t, you don’t actually want me around the baby after all of that?” I ask, torn. I can’t be a father, look how fucked up mine turned out to be. I couldn’t risk doing that to my child.

 

“Please. If anything, you’ve proven yourself more through this. I know, or at least I feel like I know you better now. You’re incredibly loyal, strong and forgiving. I mean, I knew some of that already considering how I’ve gotten to know how dorkishly in love you are with muggle stuff, but you went through so much. You aren’t evil, and I used to think I hated everything you stood for. But you were a child forced into war, just like me. You were protecting your family, and trying to get your father’s love. The mere fact that you cared so much for your house elf’s well being that your father targeted them shows how good you are.” he rants, and I don’t try to stop the tears washing down my cheeks. Because he makes the things I’ve hoped to be true about myself seem like such obvious and solid fact. 

 

“Thank you, Harry. I’m s-”

 

“Don’t be sorry. Be glad that now, we can figure out how to become better and how to be happy. I think this baby is a blessing in disguise, if I’m being honest.” he smiles, and I feel my stomach flip a bit. 

 

“Okay. So, mates?” I ask timidly, holding my hand out. It’s odd, to ask it again and to imitate the first time we met, but I’m nothing if not a poetic little shit.

 

He hugs me instead, his baby belly pressing into my stomach as I twine my arms around him as well.

 

“If you’d like.” He says into my arm. 

 

“Well then. We have the rest of our classes off, and eighth years are allowed off campus. Feel like doing some shopping?” I ask, already imagining the little baby clothes I want to buy. Harry nods, standing to get dressed as we begin to talk about various things we’d noticed in the pensieve. It seems oddly safe, natural to talk about those horrid things with him. I keep waiting for my guard to fly up, but the whole thing seems less scary and painful when I talk to him about it, like by saying it aloud I’m taking away some of the drama, mystery of it all. It happened, and I can’t change it but I can move on. 

 

I can move on with Potter, and if that helps then I won’t argue. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby shopping and sudden changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

“You are not dressing my baby.” I decide firmly, after Harry holds up yet another horrifying pair of tiny baby trousers and a shirt. He sighs, setting the offending garments back onto the rack and resting a hand atop his belly, which seems to have grown once he’d put on maternity clothes.

 

“I’m dressing the baby as I please. Lots of red and gold, some little lions.” he says, just to spite me, surely. I wrinkle my nose at the notion, and I steer Harry away from the mini Hogwarts scarves. 

 

“No. Absolutely not, we will be working with silver and green.” I say, and he rolls his eyes.

 

“Why Slytherin colours? They aren’t even that cool.” he pouts, and I try to tear my eyes from the swell of his bottom lip, red and practically begging to be caught between teeth. 

 

He coughs, I blush, and we pretend it didn’t happen. Right, anyways.

 

“No, because those are the colours of our eyes and they happen to work well together, fortunately. Then we’ll have an even chance of the baby having clothes to match their eyes.” I say, matter of factly. 

 

“I like the one with the ducks on it.” 

 

“If you let me buy the formal wizarding robes and the onsie with the draco constellation on it, then you can buy whatever the hell you want.” I bargain, and he narrows his eyes before nodding. 

 

I never said I’d let the baby wear them, we’ll just have to put his clothing taste to the test then. He immediately moves towards the newborn section, eyeing all of the different little hat and onesie combinations.

 

“Okay, you’re still awful at this, but that is… tolerable.” I concede, eyeing the tiny piece of fabric he holds up with adoration. It’s so small, how is it so small? A baby can’t be that little, I’ll break it!

 

“For the crib, broom seat and things we can just order online and have them shipped, we should probably set up the nursery soon here before you begin that- what did she call it? Nesting?” I run my fingers over the little socks and booties, eyeing a pair of shoes that are just like Harry’s. Just because… That would be kind of, you know, funny. Definitely not because it’s cute. 

 

“Yea. It has to be sturdy to survive the move, I’m not allowed to live in Hogwarts forever much as I’d like to. We haven’t actually… begun planning any of that.” he says, and I can feel his nerves pick up through the bond. Splaying a hand on his lower back and rubbing small circles, I feel the fabric of a set of pyjamas before us, and I wait until he’s a little more relaxed before I speak.

 

“Well, I own the Manor and you own Grimmauld Place. I know for a fact my mother wants me to raise a family at the Manor, but I’m not too keen on living there, it isn’t the place for kids. We can always buy a house or flat, it isn’t like we’re broke. I’m fine living at yours if we can manage to clean it up, from what I hear it’s ghastly right now.” He nods along, setting clothes into the cart as we go. 

 

Luckily we can change the colours for the baby’s clothes depending on the gender, though I think they’re fine as is regardless of the baby being a boy or girl. 

 

“Yea, I think I can clean it up. It’s in muggle London though, are you sure?” he asks, a knowing smile on his face as I practically explode with questions. The muggle world is so abstract, it’s fascinating to think of how much they do without magic. 

 

“Holy fucking shit, they have tiny hats. Draco, come look at the hats!” he says, moving faster than he probably should and ignoring my warnings and cutting off my questions about muggles. 

 

“I see the tiny hats, why don’t we grab a few. I assume Molly Weasley is knitting plenty of blankets and things for the baby as well?” I ask, and he nods. He is fixated on one that is a shimmery silver colour, with dark blue stitching. 

 

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll have enough to survive any blizzard. I still want that really soft black one though.” he points into the basket floating behind us, holding all of our things and I nod. 

 

“We have all the diapers they have in stock from this store, some pacifiers, clothes, food we’ll have to get later… Is this enough for the nesting shite?” I ask, feeling as though we’d missed something. Of course, we still have to get most of the furniture and bath stuff, but that will be by owl order.  

 

“Yea, I think so. You seem so worried for that, she said it would be fine.” he rolls his eyes once more, they’ll fall out of his head the rate he goes. We find a spot at the end of the queue, and I subconsciously stand almost behind him, keeping him between me and our cart. The Healer said the possessive, protective stuff would get a bit stronger until about a third of the way through, and so far I’ve managed not to throttle Weasley when he touched Harry, twice this week. 

 

Progress.

 

“Well, she said it was important for the baby’s comfort. She also mentioned that while the research source on this bond isn’t extensive, it kind of follows some of the rules Veelas follow during mating rituals. Though they’re more private than most creatures, so that doesn’t really help.” He shakes his head, eyes bright.

 

“No, Fleur is part Veela, I’m sure she would help us.” I feel my stomach churn at the mention of Fleur, and I know I’m sulking but I deserve to pout too. 

 

“Why do you get all pouty when I mention, well, most people?” he asks, puzzled. He truly is terrible at picking up social cues, the Healer practically captions all of my behavior and he still manages to be confused by it. Merlin, this baby had better not inherit his social skills. Or his hair. 

 

“Because, you idiot. I’m jealous. It’s our turn.” nodding to the desk, Harry turns and begins putting everything onto the counter for the grumpy witch to scan. Once it’s all through Harry gawks at the price, but I send it through to the Malfoy vault.

 

“Alright, Healer Greene wants us in for the appointment in about half an hour. Do you want me to summon a carriage?” I ask, once our purchases are shrunken into a bag. He shakes his head no, so I stop the next one passing by. Does he think I’m going to let the guy pregnant with my baby walk all the way back to Hogwarts?

 

“You’re overprotective.” He stumbles into his seat, settling the shopping bag by his feet.

 

“You’re bad at staying lowkey.” I retort, climbing into the carriage after him with much more grace.

 

“Do we get to see the baby this time round?” he asks, looking out the window as we make the trip back up to the castle.

 

“I don’t think so, I’m pretty sure we have to wait another week or so. This one is to figure out the bond.” I say. Did we really only talk about all of that this morning? It feels rather far away, though my mind is still spinning with all of the information I’ve learned about him. I’d already been friends with the hero, the brave gryffindor who had to fight in a war but so much more is a part of him than I realized. He did all of those things, which were amazing on their own, but with such a horrid past and no support, no parents or choices. 

 

I chose to follow my father. I know I regret it, that I would change it if I could but I can’t. I’ve settled for moving on from the war, accepting that I can’t fix it and instead fixing my ignorance over muggles and the non-magical world. I’ve made my peace with Hermione, and Weasley, and as many others as I can speak to but I am just beginning to truly know the Boy who Lived, who had so little but gave others so much. 

 

I have an odd fascination with his character, or his… complexities. Each time I think about them the same odd fascination blooms in my chest, and I find more to be in awe over every time he speaks and I realize how much he has grown, or every time he thanks a house elf and I realize that he grew up with no etiquette classes like I had but instead grew to appreciate others and everyone, regardless of species or class. 

 

He’s rather incredible, and I can’t believe I spent seven years moaning over why everyone was so obsessed with him, how he didn’t deserve the fame. He truly deserves every ounce of it and more, I want to shout from the rooftops how good and pure he is and people don’t even realize it, he is so much more a hero and a role model than they think. 

 

If you had told eleven year old Draco he’d be in love with Harry bloody Potter and having a baby, he’d hex you to pieces. 

 

The carriage pulls to a stop near the front of the castle, still too far for my liking, and I tip the driver before gathering our shopping bags which are charmed to look like simple bookbags. It wouldn’t do to let others know of our privileges while they were in class.

 

“Harry, do you guys have time after your appointment? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” A familiar voice half-yells, and we turn to see Ronald walking up to the castle from Herbology with Hermione. 

 

Harry turns to me, and one I see the hope on his face I practically melt into a stupid puddle. Pulling myself together, I try to quench the nagging feeling telling me to do whatever it is I have to in order to keep that smile on his face.

 

“Sure. Weasley, Harry tells me you’re decent at chess. Fancy a game?” I ask, and my tone can’t be changed from the cold aristocratic voice I’ve been bred to adopt around strangers, but the ginger grins regardless. He agrees, and I feel my nerves dance at the possibility of offending him throughout the game until I turn to Harry, who is giving me the biggest grin ever, and I can’t remember why I was upset in the first place. 

 

We part ways as they head to dinner and we walk instead towards the Hospital wing. Harry’s hand clasps mine, and I fight the urge to smile like he did a few moments ago. We’ve held hands plenty since the spell, so why can’t I breathe and why am I so okay with the lack of air and jitters that spread over my body?

 

“Thank you. For Ron, I mean. He really has forgiven you for everything, and he needs someone who can play a fair game of chess against him. Me and Hermione are rubbish.” Harry says, and I immediately analyze a compliment in there somewhere about my chess skills. Avoiding his gaze, which is so sudden and open and bright on my face, I nod squeezing his hand. 

 

When we turn the corner for the infirmary, an eighth year boy is walking out and I recognize him as one of the returning Gryffindors, Seamus. He doesn’t seem injured, so Pomfrey must have fixed whatever was bothering him without difficulty. When he sees us, or rather Harry, he grins and rushes over, hand reaching for Harry’s belly. 

 

_ No _ . I feel my hands shake as I dart in front of Harry, wand drawn and towering over the irish boy with a glare. He is a treat, and everything in the world that is wrong seems to manifest in him as I feel his gaze on Harry and his hand reaching for  _ my  _ child. I feel Harry’s hand on my arm trying to pull me back, and I gasp at the sudden dryness of my mouth, it feels like sand and I am so thirsty, so hungry. 

 

Turning to Harry, his blood and soul and body seem to sing, the exact drink or concoction I need and the only thing that will make me feel normal again, my skin is burning and I need to mark him somehow, to cover his skin in something that is mine and only mine. 

 

My throat is closing, and when Seamus draws his wand I turn to him, magic rushing from me without permission as he goes flying backwards, wand across the hall. I can’t stay, I am going to hurt Harry or curse hmi in order to follow the basic, primal instinct to mark him with some wound or scar. Folding in on myself, I cry out in the throbbing pain in my head, telling me not to ignore this, to follow my urges. 

 

With an earsplitting crack, I fall to the floor, unconscious. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy!

It’s so damn bright in here. Harry knows I don’t like the windows drawn in the morning, what did I do to piss him off?

 

Turning to burrow under the covers, through my eyelids the blankets offer no cover from the light, which means that I’m not under my thick comforter. 

 

When I open my eyes, I realize exactly where I am and panic sweeps through me. Bolting up, I scan the hospital wing for Harry, finding him in the bed next to mine which has been pushed closer so we’re a few feet away. The partition that usually separates beds is closed around both of our little areas, and we seem to be alone. 

 

Harry is still asleep, and I gently climb from my bed to his, my headache subsiding once I’m closer to him. Closing my eyes, I wrap my hand around his neck, resting my head on his chest. Feeling something on his neck, something rough and raised marring the smooth skin, I pull back in shock, sitting up to look at it closer. 

 

Bloody hell. 

 

A raised scar, seemingly close to healing but definitely permanent, curls onto his neck and dips below his shirt. Pulling the collar back, I follow the twisting lines that reach his heart. These are magical scars, curling and yet morbid against the once clear skin. They remind me of my sectumsempra scars, and yet these seem to hum with a familiar magic, drawing me to them. Pressing a light touch to the scar crossing his collar bone, a slight buzz of electricity runs through my hand. 

 

Jolting back, I am about to move back towards his neck when his eyes flutter open. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, I fumble to grab his glasses off of the table for him, and rolling my eyes as he slams them on to his face with the same lack of grace he always has.

 

“What happened?” I ask, scanning his face as he slowly props up into a sitting position. Shifting my weight, I’d probably be more concerned that I am currently straddling Harry Potter, if I weren’t focused on the sinking feeling in my stomach that tells me that I caused that scar. 

 

“You’re so nervous. WHy are you so nervous?” Harry asks, voice rough with sleep. Is hands fold over his belly, and the arse looks calm as ever as if an alarming scar isn’t running up this throat. 

 

“What is that?” I ask, my eyes still focused on the rough skin. I suppose in a morbid way, it would be beautiful. Once smooth and healed fully, the sharp contrast of white on his tan skin. 

 

“Oh. Right, don’t be mad.” he begins, and I tense, bracing for the worst. 

 

“We had to. It hurt so badly, for me too. You had to, Pomfrey and the Healer figured out what the bond is. There isn’t exactly a caster, nobody that’s alive anyways.” 

 

“I did this? I hurt you?” I ask, disgust and guilt filling my voice as I am filled with horror, the fear of myself that I thought had died with the war. I did this, how could I hurt something, someone so pure and heroic and  _ good _ ?

 

“No, it didn’t hurt. And you didn’t necessarily do it, your magic did. The baby did, too. I- our magic, when Seamus, well, when you saw him as a direct threat, it sort of triggered our magic and the bond. It was bound to happen, nothing big enough set it off until now. Madam Pomfrey can explain it better, I’m new to this too you know.” he says, eyes never wavering from mine as I try to find a lie in his eyes. He seems open, more open than I’ve seen his and I can’t tell what is different but a wall seems to be down. 

 

I don’t know if this sudden and violent change is something I like. If I focus, I can move further, and sense his emotions and feelings as if they were cards laid out for me to read. Everything about him, as dark as his past is and as cloudy and sharp his memories are, there is something there, something so inexplainably clean and righteous and lovely. It feels gentle, this new path throughout him, and yet I can’t help but explore and find so much more I want to see, search for answers and find so many more questions. 

 

Harry, his eyes and his messy hair seem to match his grin and his messy handwriting. He is reckless on a broom and that little spot on his shoulder that cramps and I can see the creases in his skin that have yet to form and the memories he has yet to make. His world is one of so many colours, and so many smiles through such pain. He is so light and yet he stands like a rock, through all of the things thrown at him and holding me to the earth. He is twisted throughout my life, more than I realized, laced and sewn in spots I hadn’t known were empty until he showed me how perfectly he fit into them. 

 

The small stretch marks on his skin from the rapid change of Hogwarts feasts back to snips of food, the hatred he could fill the world with in spite and yet he holds so much more love than those without a scar. How small he feels and yet how much of my life he takes up, how much I never realized was filled with him. Whatever this bond is, it hasn’t brought these feelings to me. 

 

The bond has forced me to realize what I already felt, what I’ve felt for years since I’d spotted my best friend, who didn’t know at the time and rejected my handshake. I’ve always wanted Potter, Harry. I always wanted to hold his hand and share jokes with him and he has always been the bright spot in the cold Manor on holidays, and I was so focused on proving myself to him that I never took a moment to read my own feelings. 

 

Of course, it makes a sickening amount of sense and yet my heart beats quickly with the realization, my mind whirls in curiosity of the naked truth; I love Harry.

 

_ I love you too. _

 

His voice echos in my head, and my eyes snap back to his. He smiles softly, and I know he said it, he did. Focusing I can speak as well, and without any sign I know he hears me.

 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

 

It feels so light and yet so strong to say the words, to watch his smile stretch across his face as he leans forward, and our lips meet for the first time. 

 

The kiss is too much and not enough at the same time, as we fight for more of the other. He is soft, and he is strong, and he is everything I need and ever will need. Teeth and tongue and lips graze and I can’t seem to piece together enough words to send to him, I can only channel my feelings and trust that he understands. He grounds me as my heart and wit leave me, my bones jelly and a ridiculously giddy giggle falling from my lips as we breathe and kiss and try to speak. 

 

“Draco, wait, feel this.” he gasps suddenly, and I am pulled back into focus as he parts from me, and I wait for the sharp snap of reality but instead it shifts with an even stronger sense of this everything making so much sense. 

 

“They’re kicking, I think. It feels kind of like bubbles, like when I feel them move, but I can feel it on my stomach. Here.” he moves my hand under his shirt, on the left side of his lower belly. Waiting a moment in quiet hope and anticipation, I feel a soft nudge against my skin. 

 

Holy hell, there’s a baby in there, and it’s my baby. I’m feeling my baby, moving on it’s own and everything. I don’t realize I’m laughing until Harry begins laughing as well, our foreheads pressed together and laughter mingling between us as our hands fold over his skin, the fluttering going away after a moment. 

 

“Ah, good. You boys are awake then. Time for some explaining, I suppose.” Madam Pomfrey whips back the dividing curtain, rather rudely if you ask me. I glower at her, not moving from my admittedly close spot on Harry. 

 

“Well, let’s get right to it then. We’ve found out what bond this is, though it’s less a spell than a prophecy. Goes back centuries, many either forgot or gave up on the promise. The founders of this place foretold many love stories to begin in these halls, and many couples fancy themselves the subjects of such a pair. The bond is one crafted by the four founders, said to be triggered by a love that lasts through hell.” she begins, and I try to follow her words and monitor Harry’s reactions at the same time. 

 

“It binds you together, it gives you the thing you most need and it creates a sort of mental link. It is all of the love bonds combined, it isn’t something we can map out or begin to appreciate. It is truly rare and I can’t say that I know what is in store for you boys, but I can promise that we will help you through it.” she says, and I meet Harry’s eyes once more. 

 

“Miss, could we possibly get some food?” I ask, not breaking eye contacts as he realizes what I’m about to ask for.

 

“Of course.” with a snap, a house elf appears, and she asks how she can help.

 

“Could you please make some treacle tart with smashed crisps on top?” I ask, and Pomfrey shakes her head at the order. 

 

“Cravings.” she mutters, as the house elf disappears with a nod. 

 

“Now, we have to talk through some of the details of this bond. First, time to eat some dinner. I gave your friends a raincheck for the chess game, they were rather disappointed but they will visit this evening” she says, as the elf reappears with food for us, including Harry’s unique order. 

  
Somehow, we manage to eat comfortably squeezed onto a bed meant for one younger student, and it manages to be one of the best meals I’ve had. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about time they said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy!

“Now, would you like to discuss this bond more in depth?” Pomfrey asks once we’ve finished eating. I look to Harry, and we both nod. 

 

“As I said, it is a prophecy of sorts. The founders placed a spell, said to be triggered by two lovers who last through dark times and come back once more, and it grants a bond between the two which is otherwise impossible, this magic is incredibly complex and try as we may, nobody can seem to replicate it for married couples.” she says, and neither of us move to interrupt. It’s a lot to take in, though a vague sense of excitement stirs at her words. 

 

“This means, boys, somewhere between getting into physical fights and duels throughout the years, you had to have fallen, mutually, in love. Whether you realized it or not, the spell certainly did, and deemed you worthy or such a bond. 

 

With practise, it is rumoured that you may share telepathic links, such as emotions and even little phrases. Physical closeness and emotional stability are crucial in the beginning, until you solidify, or accept the spell. This could be through a standard wizarding marriage, or er, consummation. You have time to think over those.” Sitting forward a bit, she pauses to allow me to speak. 

 

“What is the scar on his neck and chest?” I ask, and she nods, standing.

 

“Now that you mention it, I do have to make sure it’s healing properly. Like I said, you have to solidify and accept the spell, and your body seemed to get a bit impatient with you. Often times wizards and magical creatures mark their long term partners or mates, it is a more primal way of claiming someone. This did not hurt Harry, so don’t worry over that. 

 

However, you must be careful for a few weeks that only Draco touches it, it won’t cause any damage but it’s best that way. It will heal into a white patch of skin, Draco will have one as well though it won’t appear for a few weeks.” she says, cleaning the scar with a spell and sitting back down. 

 

“Now, what this means for your child. This spell allows you to have children, like the pureblood ritual spell we suspected, though that is not why you are pregnant. The bond is interesting, it senses your deepest wishes and desires, and may try to provide such for you. In any case, your deepest wishes involve a family.” she says, and I rest a hand over Harry’s swollen belly. I am worried at how well we’re both taking this, I feel as though there will be a breaking point, when it all sinks in properly. 

 

Perhaps we always were in love, in a way. I never have gotten over his rejection of my handshake, and Blaise always has said that no normal schoolyard enemies behave the way we do, constantly watching one another and rising to a fight at any moment possible. He always has made me so angry, so unsure and reckless in fights that I would easily win if they were with anyone else. I always find him first in a crowd, saint Potter, everything he stands for is too good and I can’t help but snarl at such a thing in fear of it being a lie. 

 

I wasn’t raised to encourage feelings, rather the opposite. I knew I was gay since the term crossed my path, though I couldn’t ever picture being with any of the boys in my year. I could only picture a vague person, someone who didn’t either look at me like a death eater or a prince. I’m just Draco, but I’m not allowed to be just Draco with anyone. 

 

And yet I can’t seem to be anything else when it comes to this impossible, messy haired boy next to me. 

 

“I will give you two some books based on the theory of such a spell, as well as the founders. I assume you are wanting to sleep in your own chambers since you’re discharged?” she finishes, and I nod, beginning to stand as well. 

 

“Oh, a couple of things. As eighth years and legal adults, your situation is already unusual. Now that we know what this bond is, we can arrange some tutors or individual classes should you need them. A quick pregnancy update, around now is when the one carrying the child begins to have certain needs, and that is also for you two to determine amongst yourselves. With that, I will also give you this guide to safe sex.” she hands over another book as we both go beet red, Harry shoving the book between the others she’s handed us. Helping him up from the bed carefully, Pomfrey returns to her office as we walk back to our chambers. 

 

“I should be more surprised. Guess when I realized I thought more about you than Ginny I knew I didn’t hate you as much as I liked to think I did.” he says as our fingers find their way to eachother laced tight. 

 

“Yea, I suppose if I took a moment to think over my own feelings I’d realize how pathetically I’ve been pining over you for seven years. I bullied you with an animated drawing of us that I had to learn to fold into a swan and blew it over to you. It’s disgusting, really.” I chuckle. 

 

“I know we have to talk through this, but I can’t see where to start.” he sighs, our portrait door swinging open. Setting our things on the small table, he falls onto the sofa with a muffled ‘humpf’, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

 

Folding gracefully on the floor in front of him, I pull his shoes off and start to rub his swollen feet. He peeks down at me curiously from his arm, face bewildered. His gaze begins to make me self conscious, and I avoid his eyes. 

 

“What?” I ask, face heating up at the amused look on his face.

 

“Thank you.” he says, voice softer than I expected it to be. Smirking, I glance back over to the shopping bags piled on the table, accio-ing a certain shirt over. 

 

“Thank me after you see this.” I say, going back to his feet as he unfolds the shirt. 

 

“I don’t remember buying this?” he asks, eyeing the size of the shirt still folded partially.

 

“Read it.” I can barely hold my smirk back, as he holds the shirt to it’s full size up.

 

“I’m going to kick your arse.” he laughs, and I dodge his kick which is difficult to do while rubbing his feet. 

 

My laugh falls short when he sits forward, tugging his shirt off to put the new one on. His skin is tan, his torso still defined with a firm swollen bump of his lower belly pushing out. I don’t recall how exactly breathing is supposed to work, but that isn’t very important because his torso goes on for miles and his skin is so smooth looking, all planes and angles and muscles moving as he pulls on the new shirt.

 

Blinking, I finally remind myself to inhale, and his gaze is intensely locked on me, clearly recognizing the effect he’s had on me. Reading the little slogan across his chest,I laugh once more, relishing in my own purchase. The blue shirt is a muggle style, but has the words ‘bun in the oven’ on it, which I figured would make him laugh. 

 

“Did you mean it?” he blurts suddenly, and I look back up from the shirt to his eyes. He looks nervous, something I rarely see on the Gryffindor boy. It takes me a moment to realize what he is asking, and my stomach twists as the same question to him rolls in my mind. 

 

Because in the hospital, in the silence of our minds it is s easy to say, so effortless and clear in the emotions that he can see. In our heads, I don’t have to think about anyone else or how this changes things, I don’t have to worry about how hard it will be loving the boy who won’t ever leave the papers ,dealing with my parents and our past and the challenges of graduating from these walls. 

 

I can imagine a life with him so clearly, and I  _ want  _ it. I want to be friends with Harry, and to have little jokes and see him in the morning with his glasses lopsided and his hair even messier than usual. I want to spoil him and hear about his long day at work and make his tea a specific way, and I want a ridiculously domestic life full of bills and holidays and his stupid crinkly eyed laugh. I want to hold him, and stop being Draco Malfoy. I want to be just Draco, and I want to tell him all of the things that make me angry and talk about my fears and hopes and goals. 

 

I want to make that jump, and that fear I’ve fought with for seven years still nags at the back of my mind. Because he is still Harry Potter, and if I make that jump I don’t know what will happen and I can’t calculate the outcome. It is something so fearlessly Gryffindor, and I’m the farthest thing from brave.

 

“Yes.” And it’s worth the fear ripping through my chest and the shake of my hands as he tangles his hands in my shirt and pulls me to his lips, the words swirling through my mind and I don’t care if they’re mine or his because I can feel his lips on mine and his chest under my hands, his fingers in my hair and the other hand on my hip.

 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

 

When the kiss breaks, and our foreheads press together as we try to catch our breath, he says the words aloud, sending my heart back into overdrive and prompting me to pull him back into a kiss. Tangled up on the couch, we eventually doze off, the enchanted fire dying down as our breaths even out. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Things will be speeding up a bit, not a large jump in time but enough to warrant a little heads up. Enjoy!

“Well isn’t this interesting.” a familiar voice says, seemingly on the verge of laughter. Looking up and blinking sleepily, I can vaguely see a big bush of brown hair and a redish set of hair near me, and I pat around me for my glasses. Draco hands them to me, and I push them on, smiling at Hermione and Ron standing over the couch where Draco and I must have fallen asleep. 

 

“Hey Mione, hey Ron.” I yawn, sitting up as Draco swings his legs back over the couch edge, sitting as well. Hermione and Ron each burst into laughter, and I look at them confused until Hermione points to my shirt. Right. 

 

“Draco bought it for me.” I roll my eyes, and Hermione’s laughter dies down a bit but Ron continues taking the piss. 

 

“Hey, let me enjoy my cheesy pregnancy shirts. I don’t see you carrying a baby around all day.” i poke his rib, and he quiets down a bit, levitating a chess board over instead of replying. Draco begins to set up the pieces, to which Ron gives him a flabbergasted look.

 

“They do that on their own, you know? This is wizards chess.” he says, and Draco archs an eyebrow. The notion would have made me angry, until I realized how oddly endearing it is. I can’t see too much of a difference in my feelings, which is the actual bizarre thing. The extremely strong and intense emotions I felt for him just changed tone a bit.

 

I’d rather not acknowledge how much time I’ve though he was making me angry, but he was actually just turning me on. Granted, I have been a hormonal teenager most of this time.

 

“You have to organize them yourself Weasley, it shows manners and respect for your opponent. And haven’t you noticed that more often than not, the pieces like to sit in the wrong places when they’re left to do things themselves?” Draco is saying, and I belatedly realize I’ve been staring at him for the better part of the minutes that have passed as the two set up their game. Hermione has noticed, if her smirk is anything to go by, and I can tell she won’t be easily fooled.

 

“So, how have you been? We hardly see you anymore.” Hermione says, taking the armchair across from me and giving me the impression that Ron and her will be interrogating Draco and I fromt their shared side of the coffee table. Conjuring a tea tray, she lifts her own glass up, her eyebrows raised as she hides her smile behind the large mug. 

 

“Good, we finally figured out what the bond is.” I say with a practised nonchalance, and this get’s Ron’s attention as well. Draco shifts a bit next to me, and I sift through the layered emotions in my head to find any hesitance he holds on the topic. He feels fine, so I decide it’s okay to continue. Hermione sets the tea down, now looking more surprised than smug. I can tell she was ready for some new information, but nothing this big. 

 

“Harry! Why didn’t you say something! What is it?” Hermione asks, he hand going to slap my arm like she did when we would study, though she draws back with a glance to Draco. He looks fine, though it’s probably best not to test things until we’ve worked it out.  

 

“I just did say something! I don’t know how to explain it.” I shrug, looking to Draco. I honestly just don’t know what parts I want to share, and I am terrible about keeping only some parts of a story private, usually tripping over my own words. Merlin knows she’ll know more about it than me before the night is up anyway, if she can get to the library before it closes. 

 

“It’s a spell cast by the four founders of the school, a sort of blanket spell including all of the better known love bonds that are in practise today. Earlier our magic got a bit impatient with us, and when Finnigan came across as a direct threat I sort of snapped. We accepted the bond somewhat, according to Pomfrey, but there is more to do.” he says, and I nod, his way of explaining it making much more sense than what I could have pulled together.

 

Pulling down the collar of my shirt some, I show Hermione and Ron the raised scar running over my throat as Draco explains the mark a little more. Ron looks a bit angry at first, thinking that Draco hurt me. Once I explain that it only hurt before, when we were trying to ignore it, he studies us for a long pause before speaking.

 

“I’m happy for you mate, I just want you to be happy. You deserve it more than anyone after the war, and as long as you-” he looks to Draco, who tenses.

 

“Don’t hurt him, we’ll be good too. Now, how does all of this factor in with the baby?” he asks, and I sigh in relief. I wasn’t worried about Ron not accepting us, he’s the kindest person I know. He stayed home over holidays so that I wouldn’t be alone, and rescued me from the Dursley’s. He’s been through hell with me, and I’m pretty sure he knew I was gay before I even did.

 

What I was worried about was Ron and Hermione finding out that I had to have been in love with Draco for years in order for the spell to work. I just don’t want them thinking I kept it from them, or lied. Perhaps it was the focus of Voldemort trying to kill me, maybe I’m just too thick to notice my own feelings, but it took a baby for me to realize how thin the line between love and hate is, and to identify the strong emotion I feel for the pointy git beside me. 

 

Hermione looks deep in thought, and I am about to answer Ron’s question when she speaks first.

 

“I’ve read about this. I’ll have to find the book, but it was mentioned in  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ and I looked into it a bit more. For the spell to work, you two would have had to be in love for a long time, through some dark obstacles. And as for the baby, unless you two actively decided to have a baby the usual way, then it must be from the portion of the spell that tries to fulfill your deepest desire. It’s a sort of counterbalance for all you would have to have survived to trigger the spell.” she says, looking at me as she speaks. Ron’s eyebrows go up a little, and I can feel Draco’s nerves pick up.

 

“Yea, we sort of figured that out today.” I say lamely, not knowing how to handle Ron and Hermione’s curious gazes. They don’t seem as surprised as I thought they would be, and I feel a little indignant that they aren’t as blindsided as I found myself earlier. 

 

“Well, I must say it’s a little shocking, but I understand it. You were absolutely obsessed with him in sixth year, Harry. I think this would all be a bit harder to process if we hadn’t been watching you the past month.” she says, and I pout a little. I wasn’t  _ obsessed,  _ I was curious.

 

“Yea, I suppose. You didn’t figure this out until today? I mean, we sort of suspected these past few weeks, if you two were going to turn into a proper couple.” Ron says, cracking his fingers as he usually does when he is nervous or deep in thought.

 

“No. I mean, it makes an unsettling amount of sense, but I swear I wasn’t keeping anything from you guys.” I say, and Draco nods a bit.

 

“Yea, my friends used to tease me saying that no schoolyard enemies act the way we did, but I suppose that just pushed me further in denial.” Draco remarks, and I raise my eyebrows a bit. They teased him about me?

 

“Well, how are you planning to go about this then? I mean, are you boyfriends now, or are you going to further the bond with a wizarding marriage? I can’t imagine the bond will sit much longer without another outburst until you follow all of the guidelines, though I’ll have to do some reading to find out what that means exactly. I have heard of some bonds having complex rituals that must be fulfilled including moon cycles and the blood or magical consent of relatives, do you think you may have to contact the Dursley's? That is, if you want to. Do you think since you’ve figured out your feelings, you’ll be living together, or just holding joint custody over the baby?” Hermione asks in a rush, and as she asks all of the questions that are already swirling through my mind I feel a little overwhelmed, then completely nauseous. 

 

Standing quickly, I try to walk as I feel like I’m floating, dizzy and confused. My feet don’t land quite where I want them to, and I try to reach a hand out for the coffee table to steady myself. Before I can make it two steps to the bathroom, Draco is up and holding me steady and I feel all of my symptoms ease up somewhat. Taking a minute to just stand and rest in his arms, once I feel completely back to normal I turn to find Hermione and Ron both standing as well, ready to help.

 

“M’fine, I was just overwhelmed, I think. Sorry, ‘Mione, I don’t have any answers to any of that yet. I mean, I want to think that stuff over somewhat, is all.” I say, and she nods, looking a bit stricken.

 

“Oh, Harry! I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with my questions, I got carried away! I’ll go to the library and try to sort out what I can before I interrogate you, I should have thought it through!” she says, and I shake my head, trying to console her along with Ron. Surprisingly, the voice that she listens to is Draco’s.

 

“It’s fine, Hermione. We’re all rather lost when it comes to this bond. I can help you research tomorrow, Madam Pomfrey gave me some books that we can start with.” he says, and I feel a little wave of warmth as he uses her name with ease, and speaks to her with nothing but friendliness. I know he is struggling to hold down the protective instincts he has over me, literally I can feel his emotions as he holds a calm face. 

 

“Yes, I’d like that Draco. Thank you, we’ll be out of your hair then. I’ll see you two at breakfast, I’m sorry again.” she says, and I say my goodbyes to her and Ron, watching Draco as he closes the door behind them. 

 

I want to ask him the questions that she asked me, I want to figure all of this out, but before I can even form a sentence he is across the room and pulling my lips to his, snaking his arms around my waist. Tangling my arms around him, I let myself sink into the heated kiss, feeling much better than I had before and feeling more at peace, and grounded. One of his hands leaves my waist to tangle into my hair, and I let out a small groan as he lightly tugs on my hair, which gives him access to my mouth. 

 

Pulling away only once we’re sufficiently out of breath, I lean my forehead against his, my arms resting around his neck as I try to calm back down. How can he bring me such peace and yet disrupt everything with a single kiss?

 

Watching his face this close, the blonde of his eyelashes over his flushed cheeks, his lips red and kiss swollen, I decide that there is nothing I want more in this moment than to hold him forever. 

 

“Draco.” I say, softly, as his eyes flutter open, and I can tell he knows what I am about to ask, whether it be through my thoughts or emotions. 

 

Before I can say anymore, though, he kisses me again, pulling back only to say, “I’ll be the one asking, Potter. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you waiting long.” before he kisses me again, and I can feel both of us smiling a bit too much to properly kiss but I can’t be buggered to care. 

 

Later, when it’s pitch dark and I can feel the rise and fall of his chest, one of his arms wrapped around me and the other hand playing with my own, I can’t tell if we’re speaking outloud or in our heads again. 

 

“I think it’s best if we both say what we want, and we can try to find a compromise if they don’t match up. It’s important we don’t just pretend that there isn’t more we want, or that we’re okay with settling if we aren’t.” he says, and I nod, interested in the idea. I won’t be holding back, and I try to organize the things I want from life so that I can vocalize them. It’s odd how I never imagined a life beyond Hogwarts until now, but the threat of Voldemort left little time to imagine my kids or a career, to think over marriage and a family as a realistic option. 

 

“I want kids. I want the whole married life, proper domestic things like bills and home cooked meals. I don’t have as good of an idea on what all of that looks like, but I can imagine it’s quite different from my childhood. I- the idea of raising kids when my dad screwed up so bad is terrifying, so I suppose it’s best that I have no choice in the first one, because I’m fast becoming in love with the whole thing. I believe in some things from my childhood, like etiquette and magical upbringing, but there is something so strong and good about you that it’s hard to say I’d disagree with what you think is best. I want a bestfriend, someone to trust who knows me and doesn’t fear me. I am fine living somewhat in the spotlight, but I don’t necessarily want that for our kids. And I- I want them to know, when they’re old enough. All of it.” Draco says, and I listen carefully to each words, his voice creating pictures in my mind of little kids running about Draco as he has an apron on, Christmases and holidays and just being with him. 

 

“I know what you mean. I think I want them to know as well, but I don’t want them to have to carry the whole ‘boy who lived is my dad’ thing with them for their entire lives. I suppose you’re probably the best person to explain it to them, you’ve always kept me well in check from being the hero people pretend I am. I want the whole domestic thing too, though I’d rather not have anything to do with the spotlight. It’ll be unavoidable in some cases, but I’m sure there are laws we can set up around us or something. I want kids for sure, I think I wanted them before all of this but I never got round to seriously picturing my life after everything. I don’t have any experience with the childhood I want for them, but I think between the two of us we can figure it out. I want all of that in a partner as well, and I really just want someone who- who matches all of my banter and who isn’t gentle and gryffindor all the time, I want someone who takes their tea completely different from mine and who likes the windows close when he wakes up so that he isn’t disrupted by the sun, and I want someone who lights up like Christmas when someone mentions muggle studies.” I say, and his lips find mine in the dark.

 

The kiss isn’t fast, or quite as heated as they have been. It is softer, slower and yet more intimate than any yet. It’s a promise, saying that we match up just fine, and he perfectly compliments the things I am tentative about, and vice versa. 

  
As he rests a hand over my belly, and we slowly drift to sleep for the second time today, I decide that this pointy git next to me may just be the most perfect and frustratingly lovely man I’ve met. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find out the sex of the baby!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys

“I’d say you’re about twenty four weeks along, muggly speaking. Which means, it’s about time for us to be able to identify the sex of your baby.” Pomfrey says, pulling the curtains around the hospital bed that she has taken to setting up permanently for us. Instead of having the Healer bring her bag every visit, she has everything set up which is helpful for late night visits when Harry’s nausea is especially rough. 

 

“Really?” I ask, a little caught off guard. It seems like it’s still early in the pregnancy, but I suppose it isn’t so early with Harry’s larger belly and the more complicated visits. 

 

“Yes. Now, would you boys like to find out, or wait for it to be a surprise?” Healer Green asks, standing from her seat which Madam Pomfrey takes instead. She sets up the routine tests to run on Harry making sure he’s still healthy. 

 

Looking to him, I sift through his emotions to find some uncertainty but mostly anticipation. We haven’t talked about it, but it would be nice to know ahead of time in case we need to purchase anything gender specific. People will definitely be asking as well, it will be interesting to tell them. 

 

_ I’d like to know.  _ I say, and he nods, looking back to the Healer with a smile.

 

“We’d like to find out today, please.” Harry says, lifting his shirt for the ultrasound spell. Lacing my fingers in his almost unconsciously, I watch the floating screen displaying his stomach in the places that Healer Green holds her wand. 

 

I can make out a clear head and arms, little feet tucked up and some facial features. It’s almost unreal seeing it, a tiny person that I made with it’s own toes and heartbeat. The baby is curled up, just like I suppose every baby is, but it looks as if it’s peacefully sleeping in the hazy colours of the spell. We won’t be able to tell what colour the hair or eyes ar until the baby is born, but there are soft reds and purples to illuminate the features better for now. 

 

“Well, I definitely know the sex now. I suspected after last visit, but their legs were closed a little too much to tell.” Healer Greene says, smiling up at the screen. I can feel Harry’s hand tighten in my own,  and I give him a squeeze back as our emotions mingle in mutual excitement. 

 

“Well?” Harry asks, impatiently. I chuckle a bit, hardly three seconds have passed and I can feel his panic through my mind clear as day. 

 

“Well, you two are having a baby girl.” Healer Greene says, and I can’t help the odd laugh sound that falls from my mouth, my eyes suddenly stinging a bit. A girl? I didn’t give much thought to the specifics between a son versus a daughter, but I couldn’t be happier, I’m having a girl! A little baby girl to hold and protect and teach all of my favourite spells to, and she can arrive at Hogwarts knowing just as many hexes and tricks as I did.

 

I can’t tell which emotions of excitement and disbelief and pure awe are mine and which are Harry’s, it’s mostly a combination of a million things at this point and none of it matters because in a little while I’ll get to hold my baby girl! 

 

“I-it’s a girl. Holy fuck.” Harry says, and I let out another little laugh before ducking to kiss him, albeit quickly, but I can’t just not kiss him when we just found out that it’s a girl and when he looks like that, all smiles and bright eyes. 

 

“Well, I see you have worked things out amongst yourselves then. Have we considered accepting the bond further? It will help to ground and strengthen the pregnancy, but rest assured that the baby and father will be perfectly healthy even if everything stays the same.” Healer Greene says, and I nibble on my lip while trying to think. It’s hard to concentrate after all of that, but I already know I’ll be asking Harry to marry me. 

 

Once we’d talked certain things over, like what we want and don’t want in life, I’d decided. After all, I have been raised with the expectation that once I was of age, I’d enter a pureblood arranged marriage by my parent’s choosing, and I would produce an heir. This expectation didn’t change when I discovered I was more into blokes than girls, after all there are spells and I have the proof right in front of me. But the idea that i’d be able to enter a marriage willingly, with someone I care for to any extent, this idea has nagged at me for years as the ideal situation that would most likely never happen. 

 

Now I have a chance, and I’ll be damned if my parents bugger this up. I will be telling them, mother at least, since Father is in Azkaban. Even if she disapproves, there are too many things to work out with her after the war, so I wouldn’t wait around for her consent.  

 

Besides, I already ordered the ring. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll ask him, and I am a Malfoy if nothing so it sure as hell won’t be a small event. I am also not a fan of ninety five percent of the school, and even less deal with me, so public declarations are out of the question. Even if ll were on my side, this is Harry Potter I’m talking about, and he deserves more than a simple proposal. Also, he might say no. 

 

Shit shit shit. What if it’s too soon? I know we talked, but he could have meant after a few years and once the baby was old enough to walk and talk. I don’t handle rejection well, it’s something I need to work on seeing as I spent a good six years tormenting the kid who wouldn’t be my friend. Well, as Weasley says, ‘stop overthinking it so much, bloody hell’. 

 

“We’ll let you know, we have to talk a bit more.” I say to the Healer, and she nods, thankfully not pressing any more. Harry gives me a curious look, we  _ have  _ talked about it, but I want to actually get his ‘yes, of course, you’re gorgeous’ before I begin making plans with our doctor. 

 

“Alright, well I would like to talk a little more. Harry, your blood pressure is a little higher than usual, so I would take care to watch it. Nothing to worry over just now, but I would like to see less salt in your diet until next meeting. This can also be caused by stress, which many couples prefer to relieve in private, I trust Madam Pomfrey has given you a safe guide to sex?” she asks, her clinical tone making it ten times more awkward and yet demanding a response to save from looking like a child. 

 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t worry?” I ask, as Harry nods to her last question. She shakes her head, going on to explain a little more.

 

“No, he has no issues with his weight and age which are big causes of medically threatening HBP. Unless you have been consuming alcohol or drugs lately, that isn’t a concern either. Like I said, keeping him clam and eating plenty of fruits and veggies should get it back to normal. Madam Pomfrey also told me you have been feeling some nausea, harry?” she asks, and harry nods. 

 

“Yea, it usually gets better once Draco, er, holds me. But it’s especially bad when Hermione asks a lot of questions, or I smell certain foods. Just when I get overwhelmed, I think.” Harry describes, and I squeeze his hand a little. The poor boy has been nauseous at least once a night this past week, and I hate watching it and knowing I can’t help much of it. 

 

“That makes sense. The baby needs your magic, and therefore your mood to be in balance. Things like excessive questioning and ever unpleasant sights, smells and sounds can make you feel ill. With wizarding pregnancies, since the baby is controlling most of this without knowing it herself, you can try things to calm her down as well which would make you feel better. It’s her rejecting the smells, emotions and things in the first place after all.” she says, pulling out a quick-quotes quill and a levitating notepad which scribbles as she speaks. 

 

“To calm her down you can of course have Draco near, and now that you are twenty four weeks along she is beginning to dream, and hear sounds. You can try to sing to her, talk to her, and things like this which will distract from whatever is upsetting her. Have you felt hiccups yet? She’ll get those too, and she may be getting rather squirmy until the due date.” Healer Greene rips the paper from her notepad, handing it to me. Scanning it, it simply lists her suggestions to calm the baby, and she begins to write up a prescription as Harry describes the baby’s movements so far to her.

 

“Yes, no hiccups yet then. You’ll know it when you feel it, trust me. Now, this is a prescription for a version of dreamless sleep that is baby safe and won’t shut your body down like some dreamless potions do. Take it each night, even the nights you aren’t ill, to get the baby used to this routine.” Taking this sheet of paper as well, Madam Pomfrey takes it back from me, muttering about putting it on file and beginning a batch as she leaves the little cubicle. 

 

“Thank you so much, Healer Greene. We’ll see you next week?” I ask, shaking her hand as she confirms our schedule. Helping Harry down from the raised hospital bed, we trail after her out of the hospital wing, but end up losing her at the slower pace we’re going. She often has to disapparate as soon as she is off the grounds just to make her next appointment on time. 

 

“So, names.” Harry says, one hand still wrapped in mine, with the other resting on his fairly round belly. He has grow just as fond of the pregnancy shirt as I have, as long as he can wear robes during school hours. Too many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and even some Slytherins want to touch his stomach, and they don’t even know him. Of course, they know he’s Harry Potter, but they still aren’t allowed to touch my boyfriend just because he looks cute pregnant. 

 

We have yet to tell anyone outside of our close friends that we are officially boyfriends, since nobody else really has any business knowing. This includes Hermione and Ron, as well as Luna, Neville and Ginny, all of whom Harry is very close with. He’s been able to spend a little more time with them since we can stand to be more feet apart nowadays, as long as we don’t stay apart for too long and prepare with lots of contact beforehand. Hermione has a hunch that this is because the baby doesn’t like so many confusing magical signatures around her, and she only recognizes Harry’s and mine. 

 

“Well, it’d be nice to have something french. Or a constellation, my mother’s side has that tradition as you know.” I think aloud, and he nods, watching outside of the windows as we pass through the corridors. 

 

“Hermione bought us a baby name book last time she went into the village, we can look through there for anything french or star-based. You know, she’s actually begun planning with Pansy and Ginny for us to have a baby shower, gender reveal thing. It’s a mix between the muggle tradition and pureblood tradition, I suppose.” he says, and I have to hold back a laugh at the idea of Pansy party planning with Hermione and Ginny. 

 

“I’m sure Pansy will adore throwing a pink-themed party for a baby girl.” I muse, and Harry snickers at this. Pansy just doesn’t like the colour, and therefore I am going to demand the pinkest party possible while still keeping it elegant and tasteful. 

 

“Mother had planned to name me Esmée.” I say, and he considers this.

 

“It’s pretty. Merlin, we have to pick a middle name too. Whose last name will she have?” he asks, and I am actually stuck on that question. I don’t exactly love my family name, but it represents so much of who I was and who I have become that letting it go seems wrong. 

 

“Potter-Malfoy. Malfoy-Potter. Hm, I don’t know. I won’t be losing the Potter line, and I don’t feel okay with giving mine up either.” I say, as we round the corner to the kitchens. Harry has cravings, and I am naturally going to sit and eat my normal people food without complaining about his odd concoctions. Though the kitchen is turning out to be a poor place to eat since there are so many clashing smells and noises. 

 

“Well I suppose we have time to figure all of that out. Who are we telling for the gender reveal nonsense? Is it supposed to be a secret and we’ll charm the decorations or something?” he asks, and I shrug. Hermione, Pansy and Ginny really took over the whole thing once they realized we wouldn’t be planning anything ourselves, so I just know when to show up. 

 

“We can ask before we tell, maybe we’ll only tell the house elf cooking the cake. Hermione said something about us cutting into the coloured cake.” Thanking the house elf that scurries up with our food, I offer the little elf a smile as we turn back to go to our rooms where the smell is much more stable. 

 

“Let’s botch it and make the cake some odd colour that tells them nothing.” Harry suggest, and I am taken by surprise at my rather loud laugh. Kissing his temple as we walk, he smirks and I almost slip up with a comment on choosing the right trouble making boy to marry. 

 

I have to talk to Hermione, I know she’ll have good ideas about how to propose. I fancy myself a romantic, but I’m far too terrified of fucking this up to make any solid plans. 

 

“I have decided that it is no-pants day.” Harry declares, as we close the door to our rooms and set our food on the coffee table. My stomach feels like it’s in my chest as he suddenly drops his trousers, leaving only the large tee shirt and underpants which leave a disappointing amount to the imagination. 

 

“Bloody tease.” I pout as he knocks my wandering hand away and begins eating with an innocent smile and a chuckle.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams and Parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you for the kudos, reads and comments. they absolutely make my day, and they have helped me to keep writing and given me confidence in my writing. Thank you so much! Enjoy :)

“Harry! Darling, you look great! I haven’t seen you in ages, Draco here has been keeping you all to himself!” Pansy pulls me by the hand further into the Gryffindor common room, her eyes bright and her dress a light pink colour declaring her guess for the baby. The party goers are all in a clash of shades in pink and blue, though I’m surprised to see quite a lot more blue than pink. 

 

Draco trails behind me, silently watching everyone and trying to get a feel of the bond. We haven’t really done big crowds yet, unless it is in the hallway for a brief minute, so this is all brand new. When we asked the Healer she said that it should be alright as long as small contact is maintained and we keep the party brief. 

 

I’m excited for the gender reveal party that is also going as a baby shower, but I don’t really know what any of this involves. If I can smell right, it definitely involves lots of food and sweets. Hermione is handling the muggle based games and things, and Ginny has teamed with Pansy for the wizard traditions. As far as I can tell, Ginny’s decided that Pansy isn’t bad after all, if the way they’ve been cuddling is anything to go by.

 

“Thank you guys so much for putting all of this together, it looks amazing.” I say as we reach Hermione and Ginny, hugging each of them loosely while Draco stands a little to the side. He thanks them as well, shaking hands instead while Pansy laughs at his stiff behavior. He has apologized to most and made peace after the war, though he isn’t exactly used to being in the Gryffindor common room while it’s in full swing of a party. 

 

“Draco, you know that everyone here is just excited for the baby. Nobody’s looking for trouble, you’ll be fine. Now! Shall we cut the cake first or open presents?” she claps her hands, and I look in panic at the group of presents she gestures to, shaking my head. We’ve already bought enough, more than enough since Draco is so worried that the baby will need  _ more,  _ and I don’t like people spending money on me at all. 

 

“What? I said no presents, this party is already a lot-” she cuts me off, pulling me back to the cake table and waving off my words. Handing me a plate with some baby carrots and pudding, I narrow my eyes at her as she shrugs innocently. 

 

“Draco has been talking about my cravings then.” I mumble, taking a bite of the chocolate dipped carrot anyway. Draco smooths a hand over the small of my back, the little bugger using the bond to get out of it. Pansy tells us about her aunt’s magical pregnancy, effectively soothing my nerves on some things and terrifying me on topics like childbirth and trying to sleep after the baby is here. Eventually I just get back to denying presents, if only to get off the topic of whether or not I’ll be delivering naturally.

 

Especially since Pansy talks of my arse like it’s a perfectly public dinner conversation piece. 

 

“Of course there are presents, you’ll need baby stuff. Everyone gather around! We’re cutting the cake now!” she yells the last part, and I turn to find the crowd moving in to cluster around the table. Feeling a little overwhelmed, I reach behind me a bit to find Draco’s hand, and he holds it tight while I try to calm down a bit. Of course she would call a crowd to stop my whining, but I didn’t think this many people were here. I’ve seen some familiar friends, Luna and Neville and the kids in my grade, but some I hardly know. Of course, I ‘know’ far too many people since they’ve tried to speak with me before and after the war, and they’re all great I’m sure, but I’d rather they treat me like Harry and not the Boy who Lived and got Knocked Up. 

 

If anyone sees our hands, they don’t comment. Either it’s hidden behind my back or Draco is giving everyone a look, and both are pretty likely at this point. Through the bond I can tell Draco wants to tell Pansy off for making me feel overstimulated, so I try to calm myself and him down a bit. Pansy can tell I’m not going to be cutting the cake myself, as Seamus and Dean yell out their bets on boy or girl.

 

Luckily, Pansy is ever the helpful hostess, and she takes to cutting the cake for us, revealing the pink cake under the white frosting. Cheers from those in pink clothes sound among the many groans, followed by congratulations from all sides. Thanking people blindly, I finally squeeze away from the table with Draco and find a highback chair to sit in for a moment while people are served their cake. Hermione finds us, sitting gently on the footrest before me and smiling brightly.

 

“A girl? I’m so happy for you both!” she says, and I thank her with another hug. Talking for a while, it’s only a matter of time before Pansy, the crowd and the pile of presents find us and Draco is tense once more. Trying to open the presents a quickly as I can is deterred when I thank each person with a grin and a mini conversation on how useful their gift will be. Eventually Pansy rolls her eyes, saying I can send out thank you cards for the rest since dinner will be starting soon. 

 

Some clear off, most staying to chat and eat some of the food set out here while Draco pulls me up and wraps an arm around my waist tightly. This is beginning to overwhelm both of us, the bond pressing in like a vice and demanding each of us make it clear that the other is ours. Nobody comments, but Hermione can tell we need to be done now and so she nudges Pansy and Ginny with a meaningful look.

 

At Pansy’s call a house elf appears, taking the gifts to our quarters to the slight disapproval of Hermione. Thanking the girls once more, I tease Ginny lightly about Pansy before they point out that I really should go rest. I’m not opposed to the idea, so Draco and I squeeze back through the crowd and manage a few more short conversations before we are back in the hall. 

 

There are quite a few people in the hall making their way to the Great Hall, and I grab Draco’s hand, steering him down towards a tapestry I know hides a hallway. Scanning the hall to make sure no one is looking, I duck behind the tapestry with Draco in tow, waiting for the thick fabric to slide back into place before pressing him to the wall and kissing him.

 

His surprise ends quickly as he turns his head to the side, kissing me back in earnest and moving his hands over my sides. He explores my belly, hands dipping under my shirt and feeling like fire against my skin s he traces the folds of my lower back, his nails lightly dragging over the skin as his tongue maps my mouth.

 

Pulling away only once I can’t breathe, I let out a little laugh, pressing my forehead to his and looking at him even though I can’t see anything in the dark. I can feel him though, his skin soft under mine as I lean on his tall frame, his arms around me. His breathing is just as unsteady, and with another chuckle I stand up straight, leading him back and through the little passageway coming out onto our floor. \

 

I plan to spend more time kissing the breath out of him, until we walk into our quarters to find it piled with the presents from the common room, suddenly looking much bigger in our little living area. With a sign, I look back at him, and find the same little pout on his face which is not helping my desire to kiss him.

 

“Well, let’s get to work then.” I sigh, regret clear in my voice as we set about putting things away and writing down names for the thank you letters. 

 

~

 

“Draco.” I whisper, nudging him. His inhales sharply, waking up groggily and rolling over to look at me. 

 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, waking up more as he gets ready to stand. Pulling him back down, I shake my head trying to calm him down. It was stupid to wake him up for something so silly.

 

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just- I’m sorry-” I promptly burst into tears. 

 

“Harry? Harry love, what is it? What hurts?” he asks, voice rising a little in panic as he moves to wrap him arms around me in a tight hold, my head falling to his chest as he lets my tears soak his shirt. Tangling my hands in the back of his shirt, I grip tight, trying to find my voice.

 

“I- it was a dream, I’m sorry, it was so vivid.” I gasp, hiccuping in distress as he stays firm holding me. 

 

“Sh, it’s okay love. You should wake me, Pomfrey said you’d be having vivid dreams and maybe some nightmares. Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks, and I swallow hard, pulling back to look at his face. Focusing my magic with a little burst, the lights bloom on and I hold his face in my hands, checking to make sure he’s real, and here. His pupils shrink at the sudden change in light, and I run a gentle finger down his cheek, amazed that he’s here, and whole, and okay.

 

“It- the war. But it didn’t end the same, instead of me dying, you died. It- he took you from me, he tortured you. You were gone, I saw the life leave your eyes, I-” the sobs return full force as I pull him back to me, holding him tight in my arms afraid that I’ll open my eyes and find them empty. 

 

“Harry, it’s okay, I’m here. He didn’t kill me, I’m right here with you. It’s alright, it was just a dream lovely.  _ Accio dreamless sleep _ . Here, drink this.” he says, pulling back just enough to give me the potion summoned into his hand. Downing the potion, I wait for the effects to kick in as he lays us back down, holding me and carding his fingers through my hair. 

 

He even leaves the lights on, knowing I can’t handle the dark right now. 

 

~

  
  


“You’re sure there isn’t anything we can do?” Draco asks, frustration clear in his voice. Madam Pomfrey and the Healer shake their heads, expressions remorseful even though they aren’t offering any solution.

 

“He can’t sleep! His nightmares are bothering him even when he is awake, and I can’t watch him suffer like that! What can I do? Surely we can further the bond, or get the dreams to ease up?” he says, and I rest a hand over his, taking the edge off of his sour mood a bit. 

 

They share a look, before turning back to us. Healer Greene speaks first. 

 

“Well, it isn’t healthy to take dreamless sleep regularly, but I think that this side effect will lighten if you were to allow the bond to finalize. Have you considered the option of marriage?” she asks, and I look over to Draco to find him working his jaw, struggling over something.

 

“I want to propose first.” he says, though I can tell his argument with himself is weak. He has a very specific plan, and it’s obviously distressing him to consider altering it.

 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. A few more weeks won’t hurt. We’re waiting until we have everything sorted. Taking it slow, if you will.” I say, and he looks to me, his gray eyes wide. 

 

_ Don’t play hero, gryffindor.  _ He says, his words clear in my mind as the ladies in front of us shift, catching on to what is happening. 

 

_ Don’t pretend that this isn’t important to you. I’m fine, just ask me already, are you really afraid of the answer?  _ I ask, wondering why he hasn’t asked yet. I know how important manners and relationships are to him, and he has told me of his plan to court his intended for months before popping the question, and how he wants some things in such a plan to remain. 

 

_ I have a certain way of doing things Potter. I’m going to earn the chance to ask for your hand.  _ He says, his words and gaze making me blush. 

 

_ It’s yours, just take it.  _ I challenge, and he rolls his eyes fondly. 

 

_ You have no appreciation for flair.  _ He snipes, as Healer Greene mutters something to Madam Pomfrey. 

 

_ And you have an odd idea of what you think is a normal proposal. _

 

_ You’ll love it.  _ He promises. 

 

_ I love you.  _ I counter, and he can’t hide the wide smile that curls over his face, biting his lip to try and return to conversation with the doctors in from of us. 

 

“Can I talk to you about how much more potion is healthy? And you’re sure the marriage will fix his dreams?” Draco asks, and Healer Greene walks out with him for a moment before they return, and we thank them for the appointment. 

 

“The Healer said it should help, if not we can try some natural remedies that don’t bother the baby.” Draco says, and I nod, resting one hand on my stomach. 

 

“Well, it’s all up to you, sap. No pressure, of course.” I tease, and he tries to hide the fond smile on his face.

 

“No pressure at all.” 


End file.
